


Greeks and Geeks

by DarlingImpi



Series: Angels and Gods [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Supernatural
Genre: A Slight Case of Death, Blackjack, Bodily Injuries, Demonic Possession, Episode: s04e02 Are You There God? It's Me Dean Winchester, False Identity, Huge time skip, Hunters, Hunters of Artemis, John Winchester - Freeform, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PJO/SPN Monsters, Prophecies, Riptide, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 04, So like both of them I guess, That Awfully Convenient Sword, The Impala - Freeform, The Mist - Freeform, The Witnesses, Though they may come in later, To be clear that's not the, campers - Freeform, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10594179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlingImpi/pseuds/DarlingImpi
Summary: *Updated Summary*It’s the same, but it’s not. Sam still loved and lost.The only difference was the “who”.The dead aren’t supposed to come back, but then again, Percy’s always been better than most at doing what people don’t want him to.Especiallywhen it comes to the end of the world. Unfortunately, he’s always been rather good at those.Percy’s really not looking forwards to the conversation Sam's going to insist on.*HIATUS I'M SO TERRIBLY SORRY*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, a few important notes. First of, I had to shift the Percy Jackson verse back by a decade to make timelines match up, so just keep that in mind. In this universe, the Lighting Thief took place in 1995, not 2005. That way, by 2005, Percy's 22, and guess who else is.... Sammy! Yup!
> 
> Also, I know I didn't give a lot of background for this story, and you're just kind of plunged in headfirst. Don't worry. All will be explained, with time.
> 
> Alright, I won't hold you up any longer. Get reading!
> 
> ❤ Impi

_October 31, 2005_

Percy walked around the corner of his apartment, getting the last-minute pieces of his Halloween costume together. It wasn’t anything special, really, just his Camp Half-Blood shirt and some jeans, but he was just planning on telling people it was from a book series. The shirt was certainly brightly colored enough and stylistic enough to be so.

In his pocket was Riptide. He never went anywhere without it, not that he needed it much anymore. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Sam!” He called. He rounded a corner to find Sam staring at a picture of his mother and father.

“You okay?” He asked. Sam looked up, smiling when he saw Percy, but Percy could tell it was a bit of an effort.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He said. Percy knew he wasn’t, but decided he needed his space and let well enough alone.

“Okay.” Percy said, going to find some blue food dye for the drinks that were bound to be served. It used to be a habit, though now it was devolving into an unhealthy obsession. “Come on!” He called. “I think we’ve passed the point of being fashionably late, and now we’re just irritating.”

A thought struck him, and he grabbed the food dye and turned around, heading back towards Sam.

He peeked his head around the corner again, and saw Sam still sitting there, not having moved. “You got your Halloween costume on? I know it’s not your favorite, but….”

Sam smiled and stood up. “Let’s just go, then, if you’re in so much of a rush. Wouldn’t want to hold you up.” He mocked.

Percy groaned. “Is that really necessary?”

He went and got his shoes on. “You have a point, though. Let’s go.”

They got to the bar quickly, all things considered. Once there, Percy started parting the masses, looking for his friends, and, failing that, anybody he remotely knew. Well, friends that he’d made there, recently. He knew that nobody from either camps had come with him.

He and Annabeth were unique in that respect, actually. Most campers just stayed at camp, or got a low-paying, inconspicuous job, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

Luckily, Percy found Jess soon enough, who was sitting alone for the moment. Her face lit up when she saw the two of them, though, so that was good enough for Percy.

She was wearing a short nurse costume. Percy had actually laughed when she’d first bought it, but it suited her really well.

Percy sat down next to her, with Sam on his other side. She smiled.

“Hey, Percy. Sam.”

Luis came wandering over with drinks in his hands. He jumped and started when he saw Percy and Sam, the two of them not having been there a second ago, but relaxed soon enough.

"So here's to Sam, and his awesome LSAT victory.” Jess said, rising her drinks.

Sam ducked his head, but Percy saw him smiling pleasedly. Percy kissed him on the cheek, then sat back in his chair. Jess cheered him on.

“All right, all right, it's not that big a deal.” Sam said, trying to get them to calm down.

“Yeah, he acts all humble.” Jess said.

“But I’ll have you know he scored a one seventy-four.” Percy finished for her. “I’d like to see you do that.” Or anyone else, really. Well, aside from Annabeth. She was probably the only person Percy knew that could keep up with a score like that, hands-down. Well, she and the rest of the Athena cabin.

In fact, Percy wouldn’t be surprised if Sam had some godly blood in him, like he was a few generations removed or something, like Frank. It was actually pretty rare to be a genius without having some sort of mythological heritage. Nothing against mortals, Percy thought. Just that the last two had been in Japan, and both had died within the last year. Not to say they weren’t involved with gods, just that they certainly hadn’t been blessed by them. Maybe cursed.

“Is that good?” Luis asked.

“Definitely.” Percy answered, leaving no room for doubt.

“Scary good.” Jess added. Scary. That was one word for it.

“So there you go. You are a first-round draft pick. You can go to any law school you want!” Luis probably thought it was a compliment. To most other people, that would be. To Percy, though, it just sounded like Sam would be leaving.

“Most law schools wouldn’t deserve all this, though.” He said, gesturing to Sam who was sitting next to him. Sam smiled wryly.

“Actually, I got an interview here.” Sam said. Percy relaxed, feeling much better. Not that he’d actually thought that Sam was leaving, but if he was, there would be no way Percy could go with him. “Monday.” Sam continued. He gave Percy’s hand a reassuring squeeze under the table, letting him know he wasn’t going anywhere. “If it goes okay I think I got a shot at a full ride next year.”

“Hey. It's gonna go great.” Jess said, giving him an encouraging smile.

“It better.”

“If I know you, Sam, you probably aren’t going to even leave them with a choice.” Percy said. “They’ll be blown away by your awesomeness.”

“How does it feel to be the golden boy of your family?”

Percy saw the way that Sam winced slightly, and held on to his hand. From what Sam had told him (and here Percy was pretty sure he hadn’t been getting the full truth), he had had a falling out with his family when he’d wanted to go to school. He hadn’t really talked to them ever since.

Percy didn’t know if Luis was too inebriated to remember, or just didn’t care.

“Ah, they don't know.” Sam said.

“Oh, no, I would be gloating!” Luis said. Yeah, of course you would. Percy though. “Why not?”

“Because we're not exactly the Bradys.” Sam said.

Percy decided on a quick intervention. “You’re lucky. My entire family gathers every summer and winter solstice. During the winter ones, my uncle—who I swear looks like the Lord of the Dead—comes and ignores everybody.” Yup. Hades. “And my other uncle’s wife once starting leaving cow poop everywhere for my old girlfriend to get on her. I’m not sure why, but I think they had a squabble and Aunt June’s been holding onto it ever since.” June. Juno. Good enough.

“Cow poop?” Sam laughed. “Were you ever the victim of that?”

“Too many times.” Percy sighed dramatically. Mission accomplished. Sam was now distracted enough from the bad memories of his family.

“More shots?” Luis offered.

At the exact same time, Sam and Jess said, “No!”

Percy remained a bit indecisive. “You mind if I do?” He asked Sam. Sam nodded, and Luis headed back up to the bar.

“I'm proud of you.” Jess said, as if contesting the fact that some people weren’t.

Percy nodded. “You better knock 'em dead on Monday. In fact, if you don’t, I’d have a heart attack.”

“You're gonna get that full ride. I know it.” Jess said, smiling.

“What would I do without you?” Sam asked, looking at Percy.

“Probably hit a dog.” Percy said, at the same time as Jess said, “Crash and burn.”

Percy thought that the fact that the two of them had come up with the similar thoughts probably proved something.

Percy and Sam decided to head home for the night, after that. Percy was feeling a bit talkative, and didn’t want to end up spilling all of his adventures. The best case scenario would be that Sam thought he was just really drunk. Worst case? Someone would take him seriously and either Camp Half-Blood would be in danger from FBI-ing mortals or he’d get committed to an insane asylum.

As soon as they got home, Percy tossed off his shoes and crashed on the bed, falling asleep pretty quickly after that. He felt Sam get in beside him, and was out like a light.

What felt like barely a few minutes later, though, Percy was woken up by a noise from the other room, one that sounded like a window being opened.

He could be a heavy sleeper when he wanted to be, but after having spent months with Lupa, and having tried to keep his skills intact, he could wake up at the drop of a dime if anything unusual was going on. He felt the warmth of Sam’s body next to him, and he knew that someone was breaking in. He was getting ready to get out of bed, when Percy felt Sam stirring, and he froze, feigning sleep. So Sam also woke up to the window opening? He should have stayed asleep.

It really wasn’t that loud. Which led Percy to wonder…

Percy felt Sam get up slowly, and leave the room silently, cautiously. Percy waited until he left the room before he started getting up as well.

He began acting like he was still tired, though, just in case Sam came in.

Cautiously, he crept out, following the path that Sam had taken.

He heard the sounds of Sam fighting with someone, and rolled his eyes. Of course. Not that he didn’t mind it, but he felt there were more productive ways of getting rid of an intruder. Like a baseball bat to the head.

“Dean?” Percy heard Sam say. He stopped moving. Sam sounded like he knew who he was talking to, and Percy had to admit the name sounded kind of familiar, but it took him a moment to figure out who it was.

Dean. Sam’s brother.

“You scared the crap out of me!” Sam said. He sounded annoyed. Really irritated.

Percy tried to silence his breathing and the sound of his own heart so he could hear better.

“That's 'cause you're out of practice.” The other voice said, the one Percy was assuming was Dean.

There was the sound of more scuffling, and then Dean said again, “Or not. Get off of me.”

“Dean, what the hell are you doing here?” Sam asked. Percy wanted to know as well. What possible reason could he have for breaking in in the middle of the night? It definitely had to be important, if Dean was willing to see Sam after, what two years? Three? Percy figured that was a long time.

“Well, I was looking for a beer.”

Apparentlynot. But still, couldn’t he have just gone down the street for that? It had to be something more important than that.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam said, more forcefully this time.

“Okay.” Dean said. “All right. We gotta talk.”

“Uh, the phone?” Percy mentally awarded kudos to Sam for that response. It maybe wasn’t exactly what he would have said, but it got the point across well enough.

“If I'd'a called, would you have picked up?” Dean’s tone sounded kind of aggressive, and Percy decided that that was a good time to intervene. He flicked the lights on, illuminating them both.

“Sam?” He asked. Both of their heads turned to look at him.

A bit belatedly, Percy realized he was standing there in just his underwear.

It took him another moment to figure out that that meant he didn’t have Riptide on him, and he was still heavily suspicious of Dean.

“Percy?” Sam asked. “How long have you been there?”

Percy knew better than to lie to Sam. “I woke up just before you did, actually.”

He turned so he was facing Dean. “You’re Sam’s brother?” He asked.

Dean nodded. “Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business.” When neither of them denied the “boyfriend” comment, though, his eyes widened.

“What, really?”

“Yeah, and?” Percy asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

“Well, uh, nice meeting you.” Dean said. He started to turn around, but Sam stopped him.

“No.” Sam walked over to Percy, and Percy leaned into him, uncrossing his arms and relaxing slightly. Percy figured, if things got out of hand, he could take Dean. He’d wrestled a Minotaur at twelve and not died, after all. He figured that that was an accomplishment. “No,” Sam repeated. “I trust Percy. Go ahead and talk. I’m not moving.”

“Okay.” Dean said, staring them both down. “Um.” He said, clearly trying best how to phrase a delicate sentence. “Dad hasn't been home in a few days.”  
“So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later.” Sam said. Percy, for one, didn’t understand any of that, but it seemed Dean knew Sam understood him wrong.

“Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days.” Dean elaborated. Well, maybe for Sam. Percy still had no clue what was going on, but he was pretty sure this ties into the part where Sam didn’t tell him everything when he was talking about his family.

The stress on hunting was weird, though. It sounded like it was a code word for something, maybe? From the way he said it, he definitely didn’t mean deer and bears.

Next to him, Percy felt Sam tense up. He remained still, however. Percy looked up at him (and let it be known that Percy absolutely loathed being the shorter one, after having been taller than basically everybody for years), trying to figure out what was wrong and having absolutely no success.  
Eventually, though, Sam spoke again. “Excuse us, Percy. I need to talk to Dean.”

Percy nodded. Sam went and grabbed a pair of jeans and a hoodie, and then followed Dean outside.

After Sam left, Percy stared at the door for several moments, before turning around and heading back to the bed. Riptide was still sitting on his nightstand, and he cursed himself for not having brought it with him earlier. Granted, nothing had happened, but he would probably have felt a lot better with it in his hand.

Instead of getting back in bed, though, Percy sat on top of it, debating internally whether or not he wanted to one-way Iris-message Sam, to keep an eye on him. One the plus side, he’d be able to monitor Sam and he’d probably end up figuring out what Sam had been hiding when he talked about his family.

On the other hand, however…. Sam probably had a reason for keeping whatever it was he was keeping from him. Probably because he wanted an ordinary life and thought Percy was just a mortal. Definitely because he thought Percy was just a mortal.

Sam wouldn’t be able to see or hear Percy, but Percy would be able to see Sam just fine.

After a few minutes, he rummaged through his drawer, digging to the very back of it to see if he could find a drachma. He knew that Fleecy had said he didn’t need to, but it eased his conscience.

He summoned some water (perks of being him) and flipped on the lamp by his bed, creating a rainbow.

He tossed the drachma through, and said, “Fleecy, do me a solid.”

A head of frizzy white hair appeared in the picture, and for a moment Percy had thought he’d accidentally been redirected to Einstein. Could Iris-messages traverse time as well as space? Then they took a step back and Percy saw that it was indeed Fleecy.

“Oh, hey, Percy!” She said. “What can I do?”

Percy smiled a bit at her enthusiasm. “I need to make a one-way call to Sam Winchester.”

“Ooh, a spy mission!” she squealed. Her face immediately turned suspicious. “But why?”

Percy tried to give her a summarized version of events. “His brother just broke in, and now Sam’s gone outside to talk to him. I just need to make sure he’s alright.

“Okay!” Fleecy said. “And I’ll keep it a secret, but only if you let me watch.”  
Extortion at its finest. “Fine.” Percy said.

The image changed. Sam was walking down the stairs, following his brother. Percy assumed that he’d missed some of the conversation by taking so long to bargain with Fleecy (even though it hadn’t really been that long at all) because Sam was saying, “—come on. You can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you.”

“You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. I need you to help me find him.”

Percy didn’t understand why a missing father could be so important. Sure, he understood family bonds and all that, and he’d certainly be devastated if his mother ever went missing, but the way they were talking, it wasn’t any sort of sadness or fondness. It was more like “he’s missing and that’s going to cause a lot of problems for a lot of people.”

“You remember the poltergeist in Amherst?” Sam said. “Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine.”

Percy had to stop and make sure he was hearing them right, because Sam had just mentioned a poltergeist. Was he delusional? Percy knew he shouldn’t be so judgmental, but monsters were real. Percy was really very extra sure that ghosts and poltergeists were not.

Dean stopped on the stairwell and turned to face Sam, expression serious. “Not for this long. Now are you gonna come with me or not?”

Sam crossed his arms obstinately. “I'm not.” He said.

“Why not?” Dean asked.

“I swore I was done hunting. For good.” Sam said. There it was again. Hunting. Maybe it was monster hunting? Percy was pretty sure Sam was mortal, though. Maybe descended from a long line of demigods or whatever it was that those other pantheons had, but definitely not in touch with it. And he was definitely susceptible to the Mist. Percy had checked twice.

So if it was monsters, ghosts and the like (not that those existed) how could Sam have seen them well enough to get rid of them?

Percy decided he was very clearly missing something.

“Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad.” Dean responded. He started down the stairs again.

Sam waited a few moments, then followed him. “Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45.”

A gun? That was just ridiculous. It was crazy. What kind of dad gives his kids a gun when they’re scared?

Granted, Percy’s dad had given him a sword, but that wasn’t until he was at least twelve. The way Sam was making it sound, he was much younger when he’d been given a weapon.

What kind of manic was Sam’s dad?

What kind of guy went around hunting monsters with two young children in tow, giving them weapons?

It made Percy’s head hurt to think about. He heard Fleecy gasp, and he said, “I know” as reassuringly as he could. Unfortunately, Fleecy didn’t seem to buy it.

“What kind of mortal…” Fleecy trailed of. She sounded outraged. “They're mortals! They could kill themselves by acting that way!” though Percy couldn’t see her face, he assumed her expression was not a pleased one.

"I know.” Percy said. He focused back on the illusion, watching closely, trying to see if he was just mishearing things. The two brothers kept talking, though, and the more they said kept making them out to be more and more of a pair of monster hunters. Monster hunters! And they were mortals, too. They probably couldn't even see most of what they were chasing after clearly.

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore.

“Thanks, Fleecy. I think I'm done here. I've got some stuff to do.”

Disgusted, he waved his hand through the mist, cutting off the call.

He just sat there on the floor, for Zeus knew how long, just staring at the floor in shock. His mortal boyfriend was chasing after monsters because of what seemed like his father's need for revenge.

Percy had to help him somehow. Otherwise, Sam was going to die.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy learns that he may be in deeper with Sam than he had earlier suspected. What the heck is holy water?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... This is gonna be the last chapter for a long time that's in Percy's POV. From here on out, it's gonna be Sam. Mostly. I think.
> 
> Whatever.
> 
> Also, I'd like to point out that this is the last chapter in season 1, and we'll basically be skipping straight to season 4 after this. Be warned.
> 
> Keep steady! -Impi

Percy was deliberating. Sam, his Sam, chased after monsters. If the way he talked about his father was any indication, then he'd probably been raised from a really young age doing that. So maybe he was good at it, whatever. The Giant War was only a couple years over, which was plenty of time for a few major monsters to reform. Percy didn't doubt that the Gorgons were after his blood.

So yeah, Percy was allowed to worry about Sam.

But would he seriously drop everything, all of his college experience and a couple years of normality (because let's face it, Stanford had some pine-tree-level monster warding. It let the mortals in, though) just to go stalk Sam to make sure he didn't get killed?

What was he even gonna need the college education for? As soon as he was done here, he had been planning to head back to the camps. With all he had done, he'd probably be offered something like ambassador or maybe even minor godhood again. Which he still didn’t really want.

So yeah. Yeah, he was going to go stalk Sam.

He sighed, and decided to make a quick call to Annabeth before Sam came back.

He re-summoned the water and flicked a drachma through. It came back and beaned him in the forehead.

“Annabeth, please.” He sighed, rubbing his head. The mist flickered, and a tangled blonde ponytail came into view.

As soon as Annabeth saw the Iris Message, her whole face brightened up. “Hey, Perce!”

Percy smiled at her, and saw how tired she looked. “How hard have they been working you?” he asked.

She waved him off. “It's fine, really. Just been studying a bit harder than usual, that's all. Anyways, why'd you call?” She quickly changed the subject.

Percy raised his eyebrow, but left it be. “I don’t have a lot of time to talk, Annabeth. But anyways, long story short, I think my boyfriend secretly hunts monsters, so I'm quitting college to stalk him and keep him alive.” On second thought, maybe a longer explanation would have been better.

It was a credit to Annabeth’s patience that she didn't immediately shoot him down. Instead, she just made a face like she’d been sucking on a lemon.

“Percy, do you even hear yourself? This sounds like a really rash decision. How long have you even known him, anyways?”

“Two years. But he's mortal. He's not even from one of the other pantheons, I've checked. Not Greek, not Roman, not Norse, not anything. He can't even see through the Mist.”

Annabeth’s expression hardly changed. Eventually, though, she sighed. “I can't stop you, Percy. But please be careful, okay? Don't get yourself killed.”

Percy shot her a cocky smile. “When have I ever?” He said. “I’ll keep you updated.” He swiped his hand through the image, cutting off the call, and sat himself cross-legged on his bed, just as Sam came walking back in.

“Sam?” he asked.

Sam walked past him and pulled out a duffel bag from under the bed. He dropped what appeared to be a pile of shirts wrapped around something that looked suspiciously gun-like.

Percy pretended not to notice. “You're leaving?” he asked.

Sam looked at him and made a face. “Wish I didn't have to.”

“Is this about your dad? He went missing?” Percy asked. He already knew the answer.

“Kinda.” Sam said. “Probably just another cry for attention, though. I bet he's fine.”

“How long will this take?” Percy asked.

Sam shrugged. “I don't know. Should be only a couple days at most. I'll be back in time for the interview.”

Percy smiled and kissed his cheek. “You better.” He sat back and really looked at Sam. “Are you sure you're okay, though? You don't seem quite fine with this. Besides, don't you…well, you don't like your family, right? Why are you going to spend, what, a weekend with them? This doesn't seem right. I should know, I'm-“ Percy cut himself off. He wasn't anything, not with Sam. Just Percy, son of Sally.

Sam looked at him with a face that basically called him out. “You’re what?”

“Nothing.” Percy said quickly.

“Right.” Sam said.

Percy got off the bed and crossed his arms. “Right. Listen, I don't want you to die on me, you know. I'd like to still have a Sam come Monday.”

Thankfully, Sam took it as a joke. He smiled. “I'll be fine. You won't even miss me.” He kissed Percy, then headed out the door.

“Bye.” Percy waved.

He watched as Sam got into an old-fashioned black car, and kept watching as it took off down the road and faded away.

.:~*~:.

The first thing he did, now that Sam was gone, was begin to actively look for anything that might point to Sam being more than just an ordinary mortal.  

He checked on top of doorframes and anywhere else that he wouldn't have noticed something. Small spaces.

What he found surprised him. 

There were the thinnest of salt lines, barely visible, at all of the doors and windows, placed in such a way that they wouldn't be easily disturbed. Three different guns in the closest, buried under a pile of laundry. A water bottle labeled “holy water,” with a thin layer of dust on top. Several knives made of various metals, some of which had sigils and runes engraved on them.

Percy opened the bottle of holy water, and was instantly overwhelmed with the sense of _cleanliness_  coming from it. It just seemed so…pure. Percy didn't know if that had to do with his while son-of-the-sea-god thing or what, but he kept a mental note on the holy water and cautiously put it away. 

The funny thing was, none of the items had even the tracest amounts of Celestial Bronze, or even Imperial Gold. Nothing that could actually take down a monster. At least, not the variety that plagued him. Maybe the Norse monsters had different rules, Percy didn't know.

Percy didn't know what he was going to do next. Sure, he’d found suspicious stuff. So what? What could he do about it?  

He collected everything he'd found (he left the salt lines, trusting Sam had his reasons) and put it all into one bag, not unlike the duffel Sam had grabbed earlier. He stared at it for several moments, before hefting it over his shoulder and packing his own supplies (including some leftover ambrosia squares he'd hidden literally in his pillow) as well as grabbing a hoodie.

He was going to have to track down Sam, a job he was not looking forwards to. His family did not seem like happy people.

Percy whistled for Mrs. O'Leary, who appeared from the shadows surprisingly fast. With a bark that probably deafened anyone within three miles of them, she slobbered all over Percy.

“Yeah, yeah, good to see you too, girl.” He said. The enthusiastic hellhound barked again, which made Percy more than eager to get out of the area. He didn't want to be around when am overly busy neighbor decided to call the police.

'Can you do me a favor? Can you find Sam Winchester for me?” He asked. He waved one of Sam's shirts at her.

The hellhound gave it a look of distaste, and Percy swung himself onto her back just in time for her to start running full-force at the trees nearby.

It was dark for a moment, and then the next thing Percy saw, it was full-on sunny outside, maybe the middle of the day. There was some sort of crime scene on a bridge, and Percy saw Sam and the black car, and some other guy who must have been his brother.

He turned to Mrs. O’Leary. “Time travel?” he hissed. “Seriously? Why couldn't we have, I dunno, stayed in the same time? This better only be tomorrow!”

He slumped against the tree and sighed. He’d never even imagined that hellhounds could time travel.  Then again, they probably couldn't. Maybe she’d just knocked him out for several hours. Actually, that seemed more likely.

He focused on Sam, and saw that he was talking to one of the-what was it, sheriffs? He was holding up something that Percy had to assume was a fake badge, because Sam sure as hell did not have any kind of job that would give him access to crime scenes.  

Percy darted out of the trees and started walking over to the scene. Thinking fast, he tried to manipulate the Mist so that he'd look completely different, in the hopes that Sam recognize him.

Just as Sam and Dean finally began to walk away, Percy reached the area. Dean gave him a nod and said, “Agent Scully.”

Percy assumed the Mist gave him a face familiar to Dean. 

Percy nodded back, nearly smiling at the X-FILES reference, and hurried on, getting a closer look at the car. It appeared completely spotless, no blood, not anything that might have indicated somebody had died there.

Nevertheless, Percy could smell the blood.

He tried to sense if there were any monsters nearby, anything at all even remotely mythical, but failed. That was more Nico's thing, anyways, but he couldn't help but be disappointed at the thought of doing this the old fashioned way. 

He turned towards the man the Winchesters had just finished speaking with. Trying to put on a professional air, he said, “Can you tell me what happened here?”

The guy raised an eyebrow, but sighed and began speaking anyways. “I think it's fairly obvious. Local kid went missing. This is his car.”

Percy looked over it again. Whoever it was that had last been in that car, they were no longer alive.

Percy thanked the man and walked away, searching out Sam and sighing when he saw the black car pulling away, driving off to who knew where else.

Percy groaned and trundled over to Mrs. O'Leary, who was already waiting for him with an expectant look on her face.  

"Whatever.” He said. “Let's just get this over with.”

.:~*~:. 

Which was how Percy found himself watching in horror from the tree line, _again,_ as Sam was getting his heart ripped out by a flickering lady who was convinced he was cheating.

Without a second thought, Percy ran towards the car Sam was trapped in, and uncapped Riptide. He smashed in the window, and did his best to stab whatever it was.

Eventually, he got in a lucky strike, and the lady burned up, screaming, and Sam's terrified face was staring into his.

'Uh…. Hi?” Percy tried. He sighed. Sam looked about one second away from pulling a gun on him, so Percy just used the Mist. _Again._

After checking that Sam was okay, Percy ran back to the trees and Mrs. O’Leary took him home.

.:~*~:.

Percy collapsed on his bed, thoroughly tired and irritated from basically stalking Sam all day with nothing to show for it but am exhausted hellhound.

He shot up, however, when he heard a footstep in the room.

The first thing he saw was glowing yellow eyes.

He pulled out his sword and pointed out at the eyes, trying to go for menacing but probably coming across as more tired and distracted.

The figure laughed. “Percy Jackson. It is indeed an honor.”

Typical monster monologue. “So you've heard of me, big deal. You here to kill me or something? Been there, done that.”

The yellow eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Your tongue will get you killed, boy.”

“I've been told that before, but I'm still here, so…” Percy shrugged. “Forgive me if I don't put faith in your words.” 

"Faith..." There was a laugh, and whatever it was with the yellow eyes came closer. “You don't have to believe me. But you're still going to die. You're a liability, both to Sam and to me.” 

Percy had no clue what Sam had to do with him being a liability.

“Right.” He said. “Well, you're a monster, so, hello, evil plans, goodbye forever. The whole schtick. Can we just be done here?”

He pulled out Riptide and held it at the ready, prepared for the moment that the whatever-it-was would charge at him and his only warning would be the yellow eyes coming closer.

Then suddenly the lights clicked on and the yellow eyes vanished, to be replaced by an entirely ordinary  looking man standing across the room from him.

He blinked, partially because he was surprised but mostly because the lights were bright and his eyes hadn't had time to adjust. That was all the cue the monster needed, because he lunged forward, apparently attempting to gouge Percy’s eyes out.

Percy flung the water bottle he's found in Sam's stuff at the monster, and watched, surprised, when it started steaming where it made contact with his skin, causing it agony.

Percy didn't hesitate, slashing with Riptide and cutting the monster's hand off.

The hand landed on the carpet, and the skeleton lit up from the inside with a creepy orange light, kind of like when a very powerful flashlight is shone through skin.

The monster hissed. “Got some nice enchantments on that blade there, don't you.”

Percy kept fighting it, doing his best to push it into the floor and stab it. For some reason, the hand hadn’t turned to dust yet. Percy figured maybe it was the monster’s power holding it still together.

He knocked it down, and it was lying flat on its back with his hands in surrender. It didn't look particularly scared, though, just humoring him.

Percy pointed his sword at it, ready to deal a finishing blow. 

And then it spoke one sentence, and Percy stopped.

.:~*~:.

Sam flopped on his bed tiredly. He hadn’t really intended to go on any more hunts, and he promised himself that was gonna be the last one. He was going to be Mr. Normal from now on, living the apple-pie life and all that.  

He took a couple deep breaths to try and relax, before he realized he hadn’t seen Percy once since he'd gotten in their apartment. It was possible that Percy had gone on a snack run, but it wasn't exactly like him. Well, the snacks were, but he'd usually find a way to notify Sam first.

Sam sat up quickly, prepared to jump out of the bed and look for Percy, when he felt a drop land on his shoulder.  

Slightly disgusted, he looked over, and saw a crimson dot staining his shoulder.

He looked up slowly, and before his eyes got to the ceiling, he felt two more drops hit him.

Then he saw it. Percy was stuck to the ceiling, face pale like he’d been drained of blood. There was a big gash through his stomach, and blood was staining his favorite shirt, the one Sam had always asked about but never gotten any answers on.

As Sam watched, the entire ceiling burst into flames, destroying everything it could reach.

Percy was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years. It's been three years since that Halloween night. Sam is more facing the ghosts that have a vengeance streak. But then.... Well, that's where stuff starts getting confusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez. It's been a while. Sorry bout that. Anyways, just wanted to say thanks for sticking with me. Much appreciated ^•^
> 
> I think the updating schedule's gonna speed up a bit, so it's no longer a whole month between chapters. I feel really bad about that. Anyways, enough of my rambling. Just read the damn thing already.

_September 28, 2008_

"Apocalypse? The apocalypse, apocalypse? The four horsemen, pestilence, $5-a-gallon-gas apocalypse?" Dean asked.

Sam almost smiled at that.

"That's the one. The rise of the witnesses is a -- a mile marker." Bobby confirmed.

"Okay, so, what do we do now?" Sam asked.

Three years. There years since he had lost Percy, since he had started hunting with his brother again. Three years, and here he was, attempting to stop the Apocalypse. Five-dollar-a-gallon-gas apocalypse, according to his brother's wisdom.

"Road trip. Grand Canyon, Star Trek Experience. Bunny Ranch." Dean said, listing off a bunch of places he'd wanted to go. Leave it to Dean to come up with something unproductive.

"First things first." Bobby said, making a face. "How about we survive our friends out there?"

"Great. Any ideas aside from staying in this room until Judgment Day?" Dean asked.

"It's a spell-" Bobby waved at a piece of paper to the side. "-to send the witnesses back to rest. Should work."

Sam raised his eyebrows at that. "Should. Great."

"If I translate it correctly." Bobby finished. "I think I got everything we need here at the house."

"Any chance you got everything we need here in this room?" Dean asked, looking the kind of hopeful you get when you know nothing is going to come of it.

True to form, Bobby made a face that said, _idjit, did you really believe that?_ "So, you thought our luck was gonna start now all of a sudden? Spell's got to be cast over an open fire."

Sam quickly mentally went over the entire house, trying to figure out where best to have open flames. "The fireplace in the library." He said, thinking aloud.

"Bingo." Bobby said.

"That's just not as appealing as a, uh, ghost-proof panic room, you know?" Dean said, taking a glance around as if hoping for the ingredients and a fire pit to magically appear.

The three of them began gathering all of their stuff, getting ready to leave the relative safety of the panic room for the Witness-infested rest of the house.

"Cover each other." Bobby warned them. As if they really needed to be warned. "And aim careful. Don't run out of ammo until I'm done, or they'll shred you. Ready?"

The three of them exited the room. They didn't encounter any of the ghosts until they reached the stairs leading up.

There, sitting rather plainly on them, was a vaguely familiar person. It took Sam a moment to place him, but when he did, he felt a wave of regret. It was Ronald, the one who had believed in Cybermen and lizard people.

"Hey, Dean." The apparition asked. "You remember me?"

"Ronald, huh? With the laser eyes? I wish I could say it's good to see you." Dean said, kind of wryly.

"I am dead because of you. You were supposed to help me!" Ronald said. He didn't seem all that wrathful yet, but he was probably well on his way to getting there.

Without warning, Bobby shot the ghost, and it went up in smoke. "If you're gonna shoot, shoot. Don't talk." He said, giving them a look.

They went up the stairs, and Sam glanced at the spot where Ronald had been sitting. He didn't linger, though, not wanting to be caught in the place the ghost had been, just in case it came back.

They made it to the library, and Dean began setting up the fire while Sam made a salt circle around where Bobby was working. Already the man was following the instructions, preplanning all of the ingredients and their locations.

"Upstairs, linen closet -- red hex box. It'll be heavy." Bobby pointed to the stairs leading to the top floor of the house, and Sam nodded.

"Got it." He said. Just as he was going up the stairs, he heard the sound of the two girls. He sighed, keeping steady, trusting that Bobby could handle himself. And if not, Dean.

He hurried down the hallway, checking each door to see whether it was the aforementioned linen closet. So maybe he didn't know exactly where it was. Sue him.

The second door he picked, thankfully, seemed to be the right one, as there were a pile of sheets in it. He stuck his hand in, pressing it as far back as he could go, before he hit something that seemed to be the box.

He pushed all the sheets to the side, trying to dig the box out.

Just as he got it out, someone spoke to him.

"You know what really pisses me off, Sam?"

Sam turned around, surprised, and saw Meg leaning casually there. Her hair was longer, changed from the short bob the demon had worn it in, and her clothes were dirty and stained.

He shot at her, but missed, and she advanced on him, speaking.

"You saw how I suffered for months. I thought you must have learned something. I thought I died for something." She made a face, and leaned closer.

"Meg." Sam said, placatingly, trying to find a way to get past her.

"But what you're doing with that demon, Ruby... How many innocent bodies has Ruby burned through for kicks? How many girls just like me? And you don't send her back to Hell? You're a monster!" Her words stung. The fact that they were true also, well, that was just the icing on the cake.

Before she could get in another word edgewise, he raised his rifle and didn't miss, this time.

Without wasting another second, Sam grabbed the box (which was, as Bobby has said, pretty heavy) and ran downstairs.

Just in time, too. The moment he entered the kitchen, he saw Henriksen going for Dean's heart. He shot the Witness without a second thought.

"You all right?" He asked, checking to make sure Dean hadn't been stabbed in the kneecap with a fork or something like that.

"No."

Yeah. The Witnesses seemed to have that effect. "Let's go." He said, helping Dean up. With any luck, they could get the stuff to Bobby in time and they could survive the attack.

Ronald appeared again as Dean reloaded his gun.

And despite everything so far, Dean still tried to reason with him.

"Ronald. Hey, come on, man. I thought we were pals."

"That's when I was breathing." The ghost stated bluntly. "Now I'm gonna eat you alive."

"Well...come on, I'm not a cheeseburger."

Yeah, Dean. Because cheeseburgers were living beings.

Dean raised his gun to shoot Ronald, but he'd disappeared.

Bobby started chanting some Latin, beginning the ritual. Before he could get very far, though, the windows slammed open and wind blew in, distorting the salt line and opening up some pretty big gaps.

Glue. They should have used glue.

Meg appeared again, this time making no pretense of scary conversation, launching straight into murderous.

Sam was quick to shoot her.

Ronald appeared again also, and Sam shit him, too. However, their reform times were getting shorter, and it was becoming more of a game of Whack-A-Mole than lookout.

Victor had reformed, and by the time Sam glanced over, he'd cornered Dean and knocked away any available guns. Dean reached back and grabbed one of the fire irons and swing it like a baseball bat, vanishing Henriksen for the time being.

Sam's distraction cost him. Meg appeared in front of him, and before he could do anything, sent a desk flying at him, trapping him against the wall behind him.

Dean looked over at him. "Sam!" He yelled.

But Sam wasn't the important one here. "Cover Bobby!" He shouted back, trying to direct Dean's attention away from him.

The two girls had appeared again and were sitting on Bobby's desk, very childlike and almost creepily. Bobby had started chanting faster, maybe nearing the end, probably just to beat the Witnesses, but he was so focused on the spell that he didn't notice Meg coming up behind him.

Before he could should out to Bobby, a pale kid came running into the library. Sam was too relieved for backup to wonder how, exactly, he had gotten there.

The Witnesses all stopped their attack on Bobby, and turned around as one to face the newcomer.

The kid laughed, said something that sounded Greek, and pulled a sword out of nowhere, so black it looked like it was sucking the light in. He took an offensive stance, and made a "come at me" gesture.

All at once, the Witnesses rushed him, morphing as they moved into different people.

One of which was an olive-skinned girl in a silver parka.

The kid visibly faltered at the sight of her, but maintained his stance. "You are not Bianca!" He had a surprising lack of accent.

He raised his hand, and slashed through one of the ghosts that got too close. It seemed to get absorbed into the blade, and didn't come back. "You are _not_  my friends anymore. They are in Elysium!" He clenched his hand into a fist, and the Witnesses exploded with a fading scream.

None of them came back.

Dean helped Sam get the desk off of him, and they looked at the kid. He was putting his sword through his belt loops like it was the most common thing, completely nonchalant.

He looked up at the Winchesters, and glanced at Bobby, who was still behind them.

"Are you alright, sir?" He asked. Bobby raised an eyebrow at being called "sir," but nodded anyways.

"That's cool." The kid said. "I hope none of them got you?"

"Who are you?" Sam asked.

"Nico." The kid answered. He pulled over a chair, and sat down in it. As he did, the sword sort of vanished again, but now that Sam knew what to look for, if he squinted, he could almost see it.

Kind of.

"Okay, _Nico._ " Bobby said. "Wanna tell me how you got here? Oh, and how you got rid of the Witnesses?"

Nico shrugged. "I don't know how much I'm allowed to tell you. Honestly, I wasn't expecting you three to still be alive by the time I got here. Most of the other Hunters weren't. Of course, that also meant the Witnesses were gone." He shrugged. "I'm just here to get rid of Witnesses, if possible, and head back."

Sam figured that the boy's explanation raised more questions that answers. For example, _where's the"back"he was supposed to head to? What's the sword made of? How did he know where the Witnesses were going to show up?_

Before Sam could ask anything, Dean cut in.

"Who the hell are you, _Nico_?" He hissed the boy's name like it was an insult.

Nico raised his hands like he was surrendering. "Dude, calm down. No need to go war-god on me."

The sentence sounded just like Percy, and it felt like a punch to Sam's chest. He'd never quite gotten over his death, but hearing someone who talked so much like him, just....

Sam tried to focus.

"I was just here to do my job, that's all. Don't get so snippy with me."

"So, what? You're just leaving now?" Sam asked.

Nico nodded. "Yeah. Unless you _want_  me to stick around, but I don't think Mr. Macho Man here really wants that."

Sam looked at Dean. He didn't seem entirely pleased with the kid, actually, looking like he wanted to strangle him.

But he reminded Sam so much of Percy...

"Do you have any siblings?" Sam asked before he could stop himself.

Nico seemed to laugh at that. "Depends what you use to define siblings. The answer changes."

Sam was no less confused by his answer. He was about to ask what Nico meant by that, when a rainbow shimmered into existence next to Nico's head.

When the kid saw it, he groaned. "Perpetually bad timing, Annie." He muttered.

A face appeared in the rainbow, and Sam saw Dean level a gun at it, check it, and drop it when he realized it was empty.

The person in the rainbow had blonde curly hair and a tan that reminded Sam of California.

"Geez, Nico, we were getting worried." She said, pushing a stay strand of hair behind her ear. "When you didn't check in..."

"Annabeth, I'm fine." Nico said, sounding exasperated. "It was just ghosts. Seriously. Although, I did run into a couple of friends."

"Friends?" The blonde asked. "Like who?"

So apparently she couldn't see them from this angle. Good to know.

Nico appeared at his side and dragged him so his face was incredibly close to the rainbow. At this distance, Sam could see the girl's gray eyes, and exactly how her face paled when she, apparently, recognized him.

"Nico...." She said, sounding weak. "Did you seriously run into the Winchesters?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologizefor any discrepancies with the episode, end of this chapter notwithstanding. It's been a while since I've seen it, and I was working off the script.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico's about to explain everything, when he gets called away. But of course he's already suspicious of the Hunters, he's heard of them (though Sam doesn't know how) so be leaves someone to take his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy flying WHY DID IT TAKE THIS LONG TO WRITE? My mental schedule has it ready about three weeks ago. To top it off, this chapter is shorter than usual. It's not how I wanted it to go, at all. I guess writers block struck. Anyways, the next chapter will be better, I promise.
> 
> Carry on!

The kid seemed to completely miss what the girl was implying.

"Yeah, I guess." He said, shrugging. "So?"

The blondie -Annabeth- gave him a look, and said, "Nico. The _Winchesters_."

Something must have clicked, then, because Nico's eyes widened. He glanced back at the two of them, and back at Annabeth.

"You don't mean..." He trailed off, then grabbed his hair, frustrated. "I should have just left them alone!"

"It's okay, Nico." Annabeth said. "We couldn't have known they'd be here. They are a bit of a flight risk."

"You're telling me." Nico muttered.

He turned back to Sam and Dean. "Can we just forget this ever happened?" He said. Then, to Annabeth, "Can we Mist them?"

Annabeth laughed. "It's a bit late for that." A young teen ran past in the background, behind Annabeth. Somebody yelled, "Harley! Put down the blowtorch! Stop fighting the Ares kids!"

And honestly, the more the two of them talked, the more intrigued Sam was. What the heck was going on here?

Nico sighed. "Then what? They're mortals."

Annabeth grinned mischievously. "What do you say we reintroduce the son of the sea god to them?"

"As long as you're not talking about Tyson. That'd be a disaster."

Annabeth laughed, and shook her head. "Anyways, that's not why I called. It's about the Hunters." She glanced at the Winchesters, standing behind Nico. "Ah, of Artemis."

"What?" Nico asked.

Annabeth's mood changed almost immediately, going from happy and playful to somber. "They're...." She glanced again at the Winchesters. "They're dying. They aren't being killed, either. They're just... Dead. So far it's been one a night, but Chiron fears it may get worse."

"No." Nico said. "No, that's not... That's not possible. I haven't felt anything!"

"There is a possiblity..." Annabeth started, seeming hesitant. "Nico, there's a possiblity that you can't feel it because they're not going to your father's domain." She waved at the Winchesters behind him. "There _are_  other pantheons."

"Well then, what do you want me to do about it? I don't have any jurisdiction here."

"Technically, you have all jurisdiction. Rachel said this would happen. _The stories shall merge_ , remember? It's just... Nobody expected this would be happening now." Annabeth said.

"So then we really only have one option." Nico said.

Annabeth nodded, and Nico swiped a hand through the rainbow. The image dissipated, and Nico slouched into the chair. "This is gonna be a party." He muttered.

"Okay, I wanna know what the hell is going on here." Bobby spoke up.

Nico sighed. " _The stories shall merge_ ," he muttered. Then his eyes widened. "Oh, shit. You guys are the Christians, aren't you?"

Dean looked affronted, and Sam agreed with the sentiment.

"Why are you judging religions all of a sudden?" Sam asked, irritated.

Nico rolled his eyes. "No, _idiota_. It's not about the religions. It's about the monsters. Angels, demons, the twisted humans who aren't human anymore. Mostly the angels. Who, I'm sure, wouldn't be too pleased with pagans."

Oh. So Nico must have been a pagan, then. Greek? That would explain the, well, Greek he'd been using at the beginning.

"Okay, still." Dean cut in. "What's with the stories merging shit?"

"It's a prophecy." Nico answered. "A big one, too. We haven't had one like that in-well, not actually that long, only eight years, but still. The penultimate Great Prophecy destroyed Manhatten, and the one the came after that merged Greek and Roman camps. Not pretty."

So Sam had been right about the Greek. But wait... "Camps?"

"I've said too much." Nico said. "Listen, I'm gonna send another camper here to watch over you guys. Um, he might not love it, but I can't stay, so... Yeah. Someone's gotta make sure you don't make the situation worse. Not anything personal, it's just....Something's going on here. Bye."

With that, he seemed to melt into shadow, before disappearing. Sam stared at the spot he'd just been occupying, but he didn't reappear. He was just... Gone.

Dean sat in his chair.

Sam sighed and looked at Bobby. "What was all that? He just showed up, and then, disappeared."

"Heck if I know." Bobby answered. "The way he went on, ramblin' about prophecies and pantheons and whatnot, if say he's mad."

"He did get rid of the Witnesses though." Sam pointed out.

"I don't know what to tell you." Bobby answered. "Could be anything. Maybe he's just... Touched."

"You're ignoring the whole part with Annabeth, though."

"Sam, he was talking to thin air. The fact that he called part of my wall Annabeth doesn't exactly provide a good counterpoint."

Sam felt stunned. "No.... He was talking to somebody! She was blonde."

Bobby squinted at him.

"You sure, Sam?"

Sam decided to let it go for now. "You know what, it doesn't matter. He mentioned he was gonna be sending someone to watch us. So we don't make things worse? I don't get it."

"Probably wants to make sure we don't kill any of his buddies." Dean muttered. "Why else?"

Bobby was about to say something, looked like, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

It sounded like someone was kicking the door, actually, like a petulant child who didn't want to go to his aunt's.

After a moment, it stopped, and didn't start up again. There was a strange banging noise, and something shattered.

Bobby picked up a gun.

Then a black and orange blur vaulted itself down the stairs, and a guy about Sam's age stood in front of them, wearing a black jeans and a hoodie that read "Camp Half-Blood."

It looked eerily familiar to Sam.

The guy laughed under their stares, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, sorry about that. Door was locked, so I found a different way in."

His eyes kept shifting between Bobby and Dean, but he didn't look at Sam. Not once.

Bobby still didn't put down the gun.

"Right. I'm, uh, well, you can call me Chase. And, YES, I know it sounds like a snobby prep-schooler, but," he stuck his nose up. "Deal with it."

So he had a sense of humor.

Bobby glared at him. "You broke any windows? You're fixing them."

"Right." Chase said. "Um... I dunno how to fix a window. So I'm just gonna get this out there now, I don't think the results will be pretty."

He still wasn't looking at Sam.

Nobody said anything for several moments, and the atmosphere was starting to get awkward. Sam was about to speak, when Chase clapped his hands together.

"I gotta go do a thing, I'll be right back." He pointed his thumb at the cars. "Don't die." He slipped out of the house as fast and as suddenly as he'd come in, before any of them could stop him.

Sam waited a moment, then sighed. "I'll go get him."

He followed the direction Chase had gone, but didn't get far before he heard yelling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's more than sure the angel knows something, he just won't say it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the end of 4x02! Jeez, that took a while! Anyways, here it is. And I just wanted to thank everone who subscribed and kudoed and whatever, and sticks with me despite the inordinately long time between chapters. I love you all.
> 
> Also I may have some plans that may or may not get me a ticket to the Evil Author's club, so sit back and enjoy the ride.

By the time Sam got Chase within his sights again (although staying unnoticed), the other guy was clearly visibly upset. 

He was yelling at one of the rainbow images, which by now Sam assumed was basically like video calling. 

In it, Sam could see Nico, who looked visibly flustered. In the background was a room much like Sam expected Dracula's would have lived in -all dark and creepy, like a mythical vampire. 

"Why the _hell_ didn't you tell me they were here?" Chase yelled. 

Nico shrugged. He looked vaguely apologetic, but mostly like he thought things would end up good so he wasn't too concerned with his current situation. "Surprise?" 

Chase looked like he was about to strangle Nico. 

"Gah!" He yelled. Sam wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Bobby and Dean could have heard it from inside the house. "Nico, this is _not_ a good surprise! You _know_ who Sam is!" 

Apparently Nico finally hit his breaking point. "Yeah, I do! That's exactly why I sent _you_ , of all people! You need to deal with this!" 

Chase grabbed his hair in frustration. "I _can't_ , Nico. Not with this. Besides, I can't stay here. I can't fight the _things_ that the Winchesters do. These monsters, they're just... they're not like the ones we're used to. They're too unpredictable, at this point. Nobody really knows anything about them. And our campers can't all fight them. Actually, _none_ of them can!" 

Nico sighed. Without answering Chase, he said, "The Hunters have started dying." 

Chase stilled. "No." 

Nico nodded. "Annabeth told me. It's why I came here, why I left you mostly in charge over there." 

"Why?" Chase demanded. "What's killing them?" 

Nico looked worried. "That's the thing... we don't know. Every night, one of the girls ends up dead, and Artemis is MIA. We can't contact her, and even Mr. D is getting worried. He seems actually scared." 

Chase groaned. "Well this is just getting better and better." The sarcasm was just like Percy, same inflections and everything. Again, it made Sam wonder if Percy had ever had any family that he just hadn't talked about (Sam definitely remembered the wild stories about Aunt June) because Nico, and now Chase, acted a lot like him. 

Except... Chase didn't look anything like Percy. His hair and eyes were similarly colored, but his facial features were way different. 

Chase had started pacing around, walking in circles while Nico watched him gravely. He was visibly upset at this point, more than just yelling. He had a lot of nervous tics, it looked like, that were exactly like Percy's, like the drumming of his fingers, so Sam recognized it easily. "I can help, Nico! Why am _I_ stuck over here? I'm one of our best fighters, and the gods trust me, I can be doing so much more. I made it through _Tartarus_ , why can I not just _help_?" 

"Because you're forgetting that adept though the Winchesters may be, one of them has died before, and it turns out that Celestial Bronze works on demons. You're more help there than at camp." 

Chase stopped wandering around and stared Nico down. "...Fine." 

"And one more thing," Nico added. He whispered something that must have been Greek again because Sam couldn't make out any familiar words. Except—was that _Perseus?_  Chase's eyes widened, and Nico laughed. "See ya, _Chase_." 

He waved his hand, and the rainbow fizzled out of sight. 

Chase didn't move for a moment, still staring at the spot the rainbow had been in, before he spun around, so he was facing the Sam's direction. "I know you're there." He called. Sam didn't move, hoping that maybe Chase was bluffing. "Dude, really? I mean, whatever, if voyeurism is your thing, I'm not gonna judge, but seriously can you at least quit hiding? It's annoying. Besides, it’s not like you heard anything you weren't supposed to. I've got no evil plans, promise." 

Sam walked closer, and Chase sighed. "What do you need?" He didn't look at Sam for very long, though, and again his eyes slid away, so he was looking at his shoes. 

"I heard yelling." Sam answered. "It seems like you don't want to be here." 

"Well, I mean, this isn't my favorite place, but I've been in worse. I'm not gonna die here." Chase seemed far too casual, but the way he fidgeted said he really didn't want to be talking to Sam right now. 

Sam decided to ask. "Tartarus?" 

Chase winced. "Okay, so _maybe_ you weren't supposed to hear everything." 

"It is actually Tartarus? Like, the Greek hell?" 

Chase turned his shoulders slightly, and kept his head down. There was a long moment before he spoke, and then, "Yeah. Exactly like that. But worse than what you're imagining. A hundredfold worse than the most horrifying stuff you can think of." 

Sam wasn't sure. He had seen some pretty awful stuff, having practically been raised hunting, and now that he was with his brother again, it wasn't exactly as if all the monsters became nicer. 

Before he could open his mouth, Chase spoke again. "And _yes_ , I'm aware of what you do for—well, not exactly a living." He chuckled lightly. "But whatever. I'm going inside. Have fun staring at cars." 

He turned and walked away without another word, heading back in the direction of the house. 

.:~*~:. 

"Excellent job with the witnesses. Although, you seemed to have some help." 

"You were hip to all this?" Dean asked. He was suddenly much more irritated. 

"I was, uh, made aware." Castiel answered. 

"Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance. You know, I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest." 

"But you didn't. And you received help, even if not from us." 

"I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos—you know, Michael Landon. Not dicks." Dean said, narrowing his eyes. 

"Read the Bible. Angels are warriors of God. I'm a soldier." Dean noticed he tilted his head slightly, as if listening for something. After a moment, his gaze flickered to some corner of the kitchen. 

"Yeah? Then, why didn't you fight?" Dean challenged, ignoring whatever it was that the angel was sensing. 

"I'm not here to perch on your shoulder. We had larger concerns." The words seemed careful now, measured. 

Dean was getting edgy, but he did his best not to show it. "Concerns? There were people getting torn to shreds down here! And, by the way, while all this is going on, where the hell is your boss, huh, if there is a God?" 

"There's a God." Without answering his actual question, Dean noticed. Just confirming the existence of something bigger. 

"I'm not convinced. 'Cause if there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse? At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?" 

"The Lord works..." 

"If you say 'mysterious ways,' so help me, I will kick your ass. So, Bobby was right... about the witnesses. This is some kind of a... sign of the apocalypse." There was a faint noise. Dean spun around to look at the living room, but everyone was still sleeping. Chase was still off in the corner, motionless. 

Dean looked again. Chase was gone, and it was just a pile of books, covered with a blanket. How had he mistaken that for Chase? 

He turned back to Castiel, who was actually smirking slightly. Smug bastard. 

"That's why we're here. Big things afoot." And now he was actively making fun of Dean. 

"Do I want to know what kind of things?" Dean asked. 

"I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know. The rising of the witnesses is one of the 66 seals." The angel answered gravely. 

"Okay. I'm guessing that's not a show at Seaworld." Dean said. 

There was that noise again, only it was louder, clearer. It sounded like someone was laughing at him. Dean spun around again, and the other room was exactly the same. And Chase was still missing. 

"Those seals are being broken by Lilith." Castiel seemed oblivious to the noises. 

"She did the spell. She rose the witnesses." Dean said, still watching the other room. 

"Mm-hmm. And not just here. 20 other hunters are dead." Castiel agreed. 

"Of course." Dean realized, turning to face the angel again. "She picked victims that the hunters couldn't save so that they would barrel right after us." 

"Lilith has a certain sense of humor." Castiel turned his head, focusing on something, this time intently. Dean spun around, fearing the worst, and saw Chase standing there. 

When Chase saw Dean's attention on him, he checked himself. 

"Oh." He said. "I'm corporeal." 

Dean looked at Castiel again, and saw the angel nodding. "Yes, Jackson. You're also invading." 

Chase crossed his arms (and Jackson? Was that his last name or something?) and made a face. "Well, it's not like I can help it or anything. Usually, though, people just don't notice me." 

"I am not people." Castiel replied. "I noticed you nearly as soon as you fell asleep. However, I don't know why you've solidified enough to become visible to the human." 

"Hey!" Dean said. He was ignored, though. 

"Whatever, dude. One way or another, it doesn't particularly matter. But still. Seals? What happens when all the seals break?" 

"Lucifer walks free." Castiel said. 

"Isn't that the cat in Cinderella?" Chase asked. 

Dean liked Chase just a little bit more. 

However, Castiel just rolled his eyes. "No. Lucifer is a fallen angel, and despite your parentage, he'd squash you like you would a bug." 

"Okay." Chase said. "But he can't really be worse than the giants, can he?" 

"Yes, he is." The angel answered simply. 

"Wait, wait, what? _Giants_?" Dean asked, incredulous. "And who the hell are your parents?" He didn't understand anything that was going on. And the mysteries connected to Chase seemed to only be piling up. 

Chase turned to face Dean. "Listen, I promise I'll explain everything, once I can actually trust you. But for now, you're gonna be confused, and there's a lot you can't know." 

"Do you really intend to keep all of that a secret for so long? What are you going to do without the Mist?" Castiel asked. He was staring intently at Chase, as if trying to see deep into his soul. Maybe he was. Who knew, with all the freaky angel powers 

Chase turned—well, stink eyes was the only really way to describe it—on the angel. "It isn't any of your business, _angel_. Aren't you above such pesky mortal things, anyways?" 

"I am involved, because whatever you do will influence the Winchesters." Castiel hesitated. "Make the right decisions. I will not have you destroying them." 

The angel disappeared. 

And Dean opened his eyes, feeling a distorting sense of vertigo as he was suddenly sideways on the ground, waking up. 

Sam was in the kitchen, awake already and making eggs, and Chase was standing silently in his corner, watching Dean.  

As soon as Dean saw him, Chase walked over and helped Dean up. "What happened in there-" he tapped Dean's forehead harshly. "-is _none_  of your business. Don't ask about it." 

He walked away, into the kitchen, smiling brightly. When Sam's back was turned, he added a dash of salt and something else to the eggs, and stirred it quickly. 

And then he snapped his fingers, and Dean forgot what he had just been doing. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase proves to the Winchester boys he means what he's saying. Sam is just...Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my friggin' GAWD. Eggs. All the eggs. I'm going to be drowning in eggs for a year. 
> 
> Sorry about that, guys. Well, ish.
> 
> Anyways, another chapter up! Sorry it took so long- I've been hanging out in Cali (which is the opposite end of the country for me) for two weeks, and for much of that I didn't have internet. And then was largely uninspired. Right.
> 
> I'm working on this, I swear!!! I'll get the next chapter up soon.

Chase was already sitting at the table by the time Sam turned around, holding his plate of eggs. They smelled absolutely delicious, and Sam suspected Chase must have added something when he wasn't paying attention. It didn't smell like anything suspicious, just spices, but, well...he's seen the Princess Bride before. He wouldn't have put it past Chase to have used spices to cover something up. 

Chase must have noticed him watching the eggs intently, because he laughed. "What, do you think they're poisoned, or something?" All of his earlier tension around Sam seemed to have vanished. "Here, look." He scooped up a forkful and shoved it in his mouth, swallowing exaggeratedly. "Better?" 

Sam took a bite, watching Chase for any signs of deceit. 

Almost instantly, a wave of heat swept over him, bordering on unbearable. It passed as quickly as it had come, but it left Sam feeling nauseous and drained. 

"What...what was that?" He looked at Chase slowly, movements sluggish, only to notice Chase already watching him, studying his reaction. "You...you put something in there." Smaller flashes of heat hit him, kind of like aftershocks. 

"No." Chase said. "Well, yes, salt and stuff, but only 'cause I hate plain eggs and I planned on stealing your food." 

Dean marched into the kitchen, glaring at the back of Chase's head. 

Sam pushed the eggs at Dean. "What does this smell like to you?" He asked. 

Dean, looking confused, obligingly took a sniff. "World's best plate of eggs?" He asked. "Seriously, those smell amazing. Wow." 

Chase rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and now they're mine, since Sam over there looks like he's about to hurl." 

Dean looked at Sam, who, though feeling slightly sick, was getting better. Sam waved him off. "I'm fine." He took another bite of the eggs to prove it, bracing himself for the heat waves.  

He was startled when he felt nothing. 

He eyed Chase suspiciously, and kept eating them, wondering if somehow he had imagined it all in the first place. Chase smiles at him, and Sam didn't trust him, but he didn't think Chase had poisoned him. 

Dean resumed glaring at Chase, and Sam noticed. What had happened between them? There wasn't even a lot that could have happened, considering they'd been sleeping most of the night. 

Chase turned around to face Dean again. "Dude, what? Did you eat a lemon or something? 'Cause your face looks a bit scrunchy..." Sam fought not to smile, because the sarcasm was hilarious. But he was reminded of Percy, and what little smile there was fell. The more he thought about it, though, the more Chase seemed so much like Percy, in all his various mannerisms and speech. Sam stared at Chase critically, trying to recognize any facial features, anything at all that would indicate he was related to Percy. 

There was still nothing. 

"Oh, screw you." Dean said, in response to Chase. He sat down grumpily on a chair and took out a half-finished beer. 

Sam sighed, and finished the last of his eggs. 

Chase pulled what looked like a Ding-Dong out of his pocket, and stared at it distastefully for a moment, before biting into it. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Thanks, Iris," (was he trying to come off as sarcastic?) before shoving the rest of it into his mouth and grimacing.  

Sam swore he could see a very faint rainbow hovering near Chase's head. 

Chase finished off the Ding Dong, and leaned back in his seat. "So." He said. He seemed to be thinking about his next words. 

Sam wondered what he could possibly say. There was so much to cover, really, so much had happened since yesterday. Yet Chase seemed intent on avoiding as much as possible. 

"So." Chase said again. He seemed to finally settle on a topic. "You mind filling me in on what the heck is happening here? I wasn't actually told much." 

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I don't know. Chase, what are you supposed to be doing here, anyways?" 

"Helping you." Chase answered. "Which is why I need to know what's going on." 

"Who even gave you the authority to stick around?" Dean challenged. "We've been doing fine on our own for a long time, thanks." 

Chase pointed at Sam. "He died. Actual, literal, death. I don't think that constitutes 'fine.'" Chase smiled smugly. "As for why, well....You could say I've been sent by the gods." The way he phrased it seemed like he was referencing a joke. 

Sam caught the 's' at the end. "Gods? Plural?" He ignored how uncomfortable he felt at the fact that Chase knew about his death. 

"Yeah, you know. Zeus, Hades, the whole shebang." The sky rumbled when Chase said 'Zeus,' and Sam jumped. Chase seemed to take it all in stride. 

"Yeah, yeah. You're touchy. We know!" Chase shouted at... the ceiling? The sky rumbled again, but Chase ignored it. 

"Anyways, the point is, I've been sanctioned by higher powers, so really you should all be praising me on your knees and all that." He waved his hand absently, then checked himself. "Geez, I'm acting like Mr. D." 

"You mean pagan gods?" Dean asked. "The monsters that live off human sacrifices?" 

Chase looked horrified. "Hell, no! Ew!" 

"Then what?" Sam asked. "The only kind of gods there are, are like that." 

Chase shook his head. "And that, that right there, is exactly why you need my help." 

Dean crossed his arms. "Seriously? You think you know everything?" 

Chase rolled his eyes. "No. But I  _do_  know that you two would  _never_  survive a Cyclops. You can't just go firing guns at everything." 

"Cyclopes are real?" Sam asked. "I've never even heard of them, except for in the stories and Greek myths and such." 

"Oh yeah." Chase said, absently. "There's one in the Bermuda triangle. A few in Detroit? I don't really know." 

Dean snorted. "This is absolutely ridiculous. There's no such thing as Cyclopes, or Zeus. You're just making this up." 

"Am I?" Chase asked. "Alright. You want proof? I can do that." He pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. "Come on." He said. "We're going outside. We're gonna need space for this." 

Sam couldn't help but be interested, and he stood up after Chase had started moving, already following him, when Dean grabbed his arm for attention. 

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" He whispered, too quiet for Chase to hear. "He could be heading us out to kill us." 

"Calm down." Sam said. "He doesn't even have a weapon." 

"What if it just turns invisible, like that other kid's?" Dean countered. "This isn't a good idea!" 

Sam shrugged it off. "I want to see what he uses as proof." 

He turned to the door Chase had gone through, and stopped when he heard an incredibly loud whistle. It rang in his ears for a second, and Dean shot up. 

"This is exactly what I was saying!" He said. "It sounds like an ambush." He pocketed his gun, and ran outside, Sam on his heels. 

They stopped short when they saw Chase just standing there, staring at the sky, one hand over his eyes to block out the sun. He turned when he heard their footsteps, and grinned, until he saw they came armed. 

"Oh, drop those. I mean, they wouldn't work, I don't think, but still. They're not necessary." 

Instinctually, Sam turned his eyes to the sky, trying to spot whatever Chase was watching for.  

All of a sudden, a black dot appeared, and began rapidly growing larger. 

Apparently, Dean had seen it too. "What the hell is that?" He cried. 

Sam squinted as it began to get clearer, and he was able to make out wings. It seemed abnormally large for a bird, though. 

Chase glanced at the sky for a second, then smiled again. "Okay, guys, don't freak out." He said placatingly, as if he was already trying to calm them down. Maybe that was a good idea on his part. 

When Sam finally made out what was approaching, he took several steps back, so he was half-hidden and no longer immediately obvious. 

Dean glanced at the sky, paled, and did the same thing. 

A large black horse slammed into the dirt next to Chase, and Sam blinked. It was a pegasus. A large, winged...horse. 

It was glossy and smooth, maybe five feet tall, and somewhat intimidating. The wings were  _huge._  Absolutely massive, and even folded up they only added to the horse's size. 

It made an irritated noise, and Sam noticed it was panting slightly. 

"Yeah, yeah." Chase said. "Look, I'm sorry for making you come all the way down here, but I had no choice, really. Tell you what, you can hang out for a bit." 

Chase paused, as if he was listening to it. "Maybe later." 

The horse made another noise, and Chase rolled his eyes. "At least I'm not saying no!" 

He turned to face the brothers. "Sam, Dean... Meet Blackjack. My annoying pegasus." 

The pegasus whinnied, and Sam took a step forwards. Dean did too, albeit with his gun out. 

Chase rolled his eyes and quick as a blink, knocked it out of his hands. "Don't shoot the pegasus." He said, as if he was speaking to a toddler. 

Sam grinned, and the pegasus made a noise as if it was laughing. 

Chase turned his head sharply to it. "Dude. Really?" 

The pegasus fluttered its wings, and Sam could swear he and Dean were being mocked. 

Chase grinned. "He likes donuts. So, if you have any...." When neither Sam nor Dean made a move, Chase nodded. "There you go, Blackjack. I asked. Now could you quit it?" 

A stray thought crossed Sam's mind.  

 _Donuts._  

His eyes widened when he realized that that wasn't him. Was he seriously hearing the horse? 

He shook his head, and pretended he had imagined the whole thing.  

Chase grinned at them both smugly. "So, now do you believe me?" 

Dean gave Chase a skeptical look. 

"Oh, come on!" Chase groaned. "Have you  _ever_ seen a pegasus before? I mean, seriously! You guys should be all, 'Wow, Chase, that's amazing!'" 

Sam noticed there was a slight stutter before he said 'Chase.' Like he was about to say something else. 

"Wow, Chase, that's amazing." Dean mocked sarcastically. He appeared to have gotten over his initial fear of it, and looked like he was itching to shoot it again. "Get rid of it now." 

Chase pouted, and patted the pegasus's side. "You're just jealous that Blackjack doesn't like you." 

"W-what?" Dean sputtered. "No! It's freaky, man. Horses aren't supposed to have wings." 

The pegasus neighed, and Sam got the feeling Dean had just been grievously insulted, even if neither of them could understand that. 

Chase slapped Blackjack lightly. "Dude, really? You have got to stop hanging out with Arion. You're lucky neither of them speak...horse." 

So Sam was right. Although, who was Arion? Just another question added to the pile about Chase and his mysteriousness. And it didn't look like any of them were going to be answered anytime soon. 

Sam sighed. "Look, this has been great, Chase. I like the pegasus, but-" 

Dean cut him off. "But that horse is absolutely creepy. It's staring at me." And it was, like it was intentionally trying to psych Dean out.  

It probably was. 

Chase took the hint. "Okay, well, Blackjack just flew over thirteen hundred miles, freaky teleportation powers aside—like one time he showed up in Topeka and while that was great I still don't know how he managed it—so, he's a bit tired. So he's gonna hang around a bit, maybe pester some locals for donuts." 

Dean looked horrified, and Sam felt the same way. Chase was planning to just release the pegasus onto an unsuspecting town? At best, nobody died, and the pegasus got dissected. And that was only the best possible outcome. 

Chase must have seen their expressions, because he laughed. "No, no. I have a heck of a lot of stuff to explain to you. Here, go inside. Blackjack'll be fine." 

To the horse, he said, "You're free to go." He waited a beat, and then yelled out as the pegasus was getting ready to fly off. "Don't call me boss!" 

Chase went back inside, following Sam, who still didn't understand how the pegasus (the highly-visible-in-the-daylight-pegasus) was going to remain unseen. Chase seemed fairly confident in its abilities, though. 

And that was another thing! Why was Sam so trusting of Chase already? He didn't know Chase all that well, but Chase seemed okay with the pegasus, so now he was, too. It didn't make sense, but somehow, Sam was just so...calm around Chase. 

And that was worrisome. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase demonstrates the Mist....and shows off his horse.
> 
> GAH! Get your minds out of the gutters!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is taking way too long. I think I've been in a rut for the longest time, so I'm forcefully breaking out of it. No more eternal waits between chapters! (Says I, who then proceeds to start the next chapter by sitting at the computer for an hour trying to decide which letter would be the best to start off my sentence.)
> 
> ANYWAYS....I wanted to thank all you guys for the comments you've been leaving me! Every time I see them, I just break out into grins and giggles and it's just...Just awesome. So super-duper great. I love all y'all. Even you, Gina. Even you.
> 
> Really, this whole site is just my favorite.
> 
> Enough blabbering. Happy trails!  
> Impi

“And that is why you should probably avoid feeding pegasi too many donuts…or actually, come to think of it, maybe just avoid sugar altogether.” Chase finished somewhat grandly. He made a little “jazz hands” gesture and smiled like he thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. 

Maybe he was. Sam tried not to think about that too hard. 

Dean looked, for once, actually interested in something as esoteric as what Chase had been trying to explain.  “Dude, really?” He rolled his eyes, trying to come off as disinterested, but Sam knew better. “So you roll into this place with a pegasus, tell him he can go get donuts, tell us he will manage to not be seen, and then tell us about all the times you’ve fed him donuts? Also, you have yet to explain how he’s not being seen. The only reason we don’t have a problem yet is that I’m not hearing any police sirens.” 

Chase’s face fell slightly. “Well, yeah. I dunno how much I’m allowed to tell you, so I stuck to something fairly basic. Besides, I—” he hesitated for a moment before coming to a decision. 

Sam didn’t like the look on his face. It seemed oddly familiar, yet Sam couldn’t place it on anybody else’s face. 

Chase looked positively devilish when he said, “I’m awesome. I can do what I want. I’m owed that much.” 

“What?” Bobby asked. 

Sam looked up at him, startled. He’d nearly entirely forgotten that they were all still staying at Bobby’s house, and that the owner of said house was prone to living in it. 

He had no clue how long Bobby had been standing there. And, judging by Chase's surprise, neither did he. 

Dean grinned up at Bobby. “Pegasi.” 

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Idjits.” He glanced out the window once, almost apprehensively, and looked back to Chase. “You mind explaining why there’s a horse in the yard?” He asked roughly. 

Sam looked out, and sure enough, there was Blackjack. “Horse?” He echoed. Unless he was calling it wrong on purpose, Sam was pretty sure he’d missed the wings. And that was hard to do, seeing as they were nearly as big as the “horse” bit themselves and proudly displayed. 

Dean glanced out the window as well, then looked at Bobby incredulously. “You’re kidding me, right?” 

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “What, exactly, would I be kidding you about?” 

“All he sees is a horse.” Chase piped up. “That would be what I was about to mention.” 

“Whaddya mean, ‘all I see is a horse?’” Bobby demanded, getting visibly annoyed. “What the hell is this?” 

Chase sighed, and muttered something that sounded like “ _hunters._ ” Louder, he added, “That’d be the Mist. Capital ‘ _M_.’ Singer, how familiar are you with the Greek myths?” Sam noted he didn’t say “Mr.” or “Bobby.” 

Bobby nodded towards his shelves. “How well d’ya think?” 

Chase peered at the titles and nodded approvingly. “Most of those are  _okay_. However, the third from the left, two up—yeah, that one’s complete shit, and I don’t say that lightly.” 

Sam raised his eyebrow, and he knew Chase caught it. “Yeah? What makes you say that?” He asked, looking at the book Chase had pointed out. Near as he could make it out, it was on the lesser-known monsters of the Greek universe. 

Chase seemed to be mocking him when he answered, “Because I finished it last week, and I’ve gotta say, dracanae are  _not_  that mindless in person. Well, I mean, they might be, but they’re organized enough to become part of an army, soooo….” He drew out the ‘o.’ 

Bobby looked mildly impressed. “You read that entire thing? Portions of it are in Greek. The ancient kind. I’ve been trying to work on that for years.” 

“Don’t waste your time.” Chase waved him off. “It’s wildly inaccurate. One might compare it to  _Twilight._ ” Chase visibly shuddered. “Actually, I betcha Steph herself reincarnated and wrote that.” 

“That’s not how reincarnation works.” Dean pointed out. 

“Whatever.” Chase said. “Anyways, I’ve already told Blackjack he could head home, so whatever he does at this point is up to him.” 

Bobby peered out the window. “That horse is Blackjack?” He startled, and Sam heard the rustling of feathers outside. He glanced out, and the winged horse was considerably closer than before. 

“Yeah.” Chase said. He glanced out of the window as well, finally checking on the horse. 

Sam finally spoke up. "Okay. I'm not following everything entirely clearly, am I?" Bobby had been seeing the pegasus as a horse, yet Sam had been able to see the wings. And, adding to that the fact that Bobby thought Nico was insane because he'd missed the conversation with the blonde girl... "Why can't Bobby see the wings?" He asked, going for the direct approach. He prepared himself for holes in Chase's story fall through as he tried to explain himself. 

Chase nodded. "Yeah, okay. You guys are hunters. You hunt things. And shoot them, dead. So kudos for tolerating Blackjack, but honestly, I don't know how much I can trust you not to go all medieval witch-burner on me." 

"That's not an answer." Dean said. 

Chase rolled his eyes, somehow managing to add dark irritation to the action. "Well, obviously. But I know how you guys react to witches and stuff that messes with people's heads." He shook his head, then snorted. "Yeah. This'll totally end well. Okay. The short answer is the Mist." 

He paced in a circle for a moment, obviously thinking of some way to phrase - _something-_ so as not to set off the brothers and Bobby. 

Eventually, he faced them all. "Listen. You hunt monsters, I hunt monsters. Well, monsters hunt me and I kill them, but that's beside the point. The point is, we stop them. But the thing is, we deal with different creatures. You hunt things that are warped humans, I kill things you've never even heard of. Well, maybe Singer, but my point remains." 

He took a deep breath, and looked each of them straight in the eyes, one at a time. When his gaze landed on Sam, Sam was once again struck by the sense of familiarity he got from Chase. 

He was startled when Chase began speaking again. "I've saved the world from disaster, and you never noticed. And that's fine. But the thing is, my end-of-world crisis was different. It was  _put down_. You guys? If it starts, you haven't got a chance. Even with me, and all my forces. You're toast. So I'm here to stop this from happening. And when it's over, I'll leave, and we can carry on our merry little ways. But until that point, you're going to have to deal with me, and all my methods." 

Outside, the sky darkened, far too fast to be natural. Sam felt a strange pressure on his chest, like he was deep underwater, yet his ears felt like he was increasing altitude rapidly. The air seemed to hang like a heavy fog, and Sam could almost see the moisture. 

A quick glance at his brother and Bobby proved that he wasn't the only one noticing this. Dean was trying to pop his ears, and Bobby was moving his hand through the air slowly, as though trying to figure out where the weight was coming from. 

Chase's face darkened, and in that moment he looked positively  _scary_. "I am stronger than any of you, and I can do things you can't." Outside a wind picked up, howling eerily. Sam's attention was snapped back to Chase when he raised his hand, and Dean was already automatically reaching for his gun. Sam braced himself as well, but came up with nothing but a kitchen knife. Still, it was better than nothing. 

Out of nowhere, the heavy weight and moisture that Sam had been feeling condensed, and water droplets beaded themselves through the air, hanging like a curtain of diamonds. Sam was drenched, and the other two fared no better. Bobby was panicking, looking towards his shelves, where all of his precious books were kept. 

All the weapons were pointed on Chase, who was inexplicably dry. 

Well, not inexplicably, Sam mused. He had to be controlling the water somehow.  

"But if you wanna fight the apocalypse without my help, go ahead. My camp will be safe."  

The water just vanished, as best as Sam could describe, and everything in the room was completely dry. The sky brightened up as fast as it had darkened, and the wind stopped suddenly. Yet Sam and Dean were still soaked. 

Sam figured it was supposed to be a joke. He didn't put it past Chase. 

Chase smiled fakely, completely ignoring the weapons still trained on him. "I'm only doing volunteer work." He seemed to remember something, and nodded. 

"So. Mist. Let's see, what's the best way to demonstrate this?" Chase muttered to himself. 

Sam caught himself cataloguing all of Chase's tics, and the motions of his hands as he talked to himself. 

All of a sudden, a long, shallow cut appeared on his arm, oozing blood. His other hand was held oddly at his side, like he'd just been using it for something and hadn't quite finished the motion. 

Sam startled, and Dean cursed, jumping back. "Holy fuck, dude, what the hell just happened to your arm?" 

Sam noticed that the blood trailing slowly down Chase's arm glittered slightly, just the barest hint of gold. He also seemed completely unconcerned with the laceration. Like,  _Oh, yeah. No big deal._  

"The Mist." Chase said proudly. "All three of you have completely forgotten me doing this to myself. You don't know what weapon I used, how long it took, or which direction I made the cut in. Easy enough to figure out, but you didn't see it happen,  _and that's the point_." He gestured at his arm. "I did this right in front of you. Impossible to miss.  _But you did._ " 

Sam, after getting over his initial shock, was staring, wide-eyed. He watched as Chase demonstrated the trick again, this time by moving to the far side of the room in a split second.  

A million questions were running through Sam's mind, all centered on Chase. Instead of saying anything useful, though, his brain decided on,  _"That's_ the Mist? _"_  

"Yeah." Chase nodded. "I probably overuse it, but I swear it's the most useful invention since R— since un-losable pens. Seriously." 

Across from Sam, Dean's eyes widened. He straightened up unconsciously, and quoting someone, (though Sam didn't know who) said,  _"What are you going to do without the Mist?_ _"_  

Chase's attention snapped to Dean, and Sam knew he'd missed something huge.  

"That's not what he meant. I can fight fine without it." Chase said sharply, and Sam wondered when this could have happened, because he'd never seen Chase before yesterday and knew Dean hadn't either. 

But he was staring at the quickly fading scar on Chase's arm and getting so few answers he probably has less information than he did before Chase came. 

But remembering that with the flurry of the past day and a half, nobody had yet checked if Chase was possessed or not. 

Feeling dazed, he whispered, " _Christo_ " within earshot of Chase. 

And dark eyes were turned on him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okayyy. So... Next chapter we get into the timey wimey stuff! That's right, you heard it here first, folks: we are finally moving onto episode three (season four [duh])!!!!!! Oh my freckled Jesus I'm so goddamned relieved. Like seriously. We haven't even broken ten chapters and I'm already so constipated because I want to just skip straight to the good bits but nooooo, you can't do that Imps, you've got an adoring public! An adoring public who likes not skipping important events!
> 
> Fine. Be that way. You'll get your chapters. *hmmpphhh* You're /welcome/
> 
> Haha no, I'm actually excited for the next bit. I hope you guys are too, cause it's gonna be good!
> 
> ALSSo me and my lazy butt has to go finish Supernatural. Season 12. I mean, I've seen the first bit.... But if I do that it's gonna be even longer until chapter eight, so maybe not. 
> 
> Right.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1973\. Cold war, Space Race, oil crisis. Nixon's resignation.
> 
> More specifically, though, April 30th.
> 
> The day the world, however temporarily, gained two new temporally-displaced passengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.
> 
> Um.
> 
> Hi?
> 
> Tell you what, I'll give you a fun quote and you can just forget that this chapter was late.
> 
> "Some people are like clouds. When they disappear, it's a beautiful day." ~Google Search.
> 
> There.
> 
> Happy trails!  
> Impi

Dean was back in Hell. He’d thought he’d gotten out, but that must have been one of Alastair’s tricks, one of the crueler ones, letting him believe he was free only to drag him back down, because here he was, surrounded by hell and red and blood and sulfur and—

His eyes opened, and all of a sudden he was back in the crappy motel room.

“Hello, Dean.” He heard a voice, which sounded familiar. It took him a moment to place it, though. “What were you…dreaming about?”

He turned to face the angel. “What, do you get your freak on by watching other people sleep? What do you want?”

“Listen to me.” He said, sounding grave. “You have to stop it.” It also seemed like he was trying to be intentionally vague.

“Stop what?”

Without answering, Castiel reached up and put two fingers to Dean’s forehead, like he was trying to recite the Girl Scout Promise in Dean’s personal space.

When he opened his eyes again, he was being talked at by a police officer, who, despite asking Dean to move, didn’t seem to be too harsh.

“Move it buddy—you can't sleep here.” The guy said, shaking Dean.

He blinked in confusion. “Okay... sleep... where?” He asked, trying to figure out where he was and what, exactly, the angel had done with him.

“Anywhere but here.” The police guy said again.

He walked away, and Dean sat up dizzily. His coat was thrown over his lap, and he pulled out the journal and his flip-phone, opening it up.

The ‘no signal’ sign beeped at him, and he waved it around, but couldn’t find the signal. “Perfect.” He muttered.

He got off the bench at last, and entered the diner across the street. He sat down next to someone he imagined looked similar to his dad, had his dad been younger. 

“Hey, where the hell am I?”

“Jay Bird's Diner.” The dude gave him a look like he was some sort of hooligan who’d spent too much time drinking.

“Yeah, thanks.” Dean said. Like he couldn’t see the sign on the way in. “I mean, uh... city and state.”

“Lawrence, Kansas?” He somehow made the end of the statement a question, like, ‘I can’t believe you don’t know.’

“Lawrence.” Dean repeated.

“Hey, you okay buddy?” The Guy asked. He seemed to finally be catching on to the thought that something maybe wasn’t right. He gave Dean a look of concern, and while Dean appreciated the thought, it wasn’t like there was anything he could do.

“Yeah, tough night.” Dean excused.

“Hey, uh, coffee here, Reg.” The Guy waved at the person behind the counter.

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket, and looked at it for a moment. “Can you tell me where I can get reception on this thing?”

“The USS Enterprise?” The Guy next to him scoffed.

Dean looked at his phone. It wasn’t Star Trecky. It wasn’t even the top quality, compared to the newer phones that had been coming out. It wasn’t unusual in the slightest. No…

‘Reg’ came over with the coffee, dressed like some kind of awful hippie. Early Sonny Bono.

“Thanks... nice threads.” Dean couldn’t resist digging. “You know Sonny and Cher broke up, right?”

“Sonny and Cher broke up?” The Guy looked at him with wide eyes, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Dean took another look around the diner, finally noticing what he had missed the first time around. Everyone was dressed in 70s-era clothes. Every single one of them. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d have guessed that he was at some sort of weird themed convention.

In fact, that’s exactly what he would have said was going on, if he didn’t look at the newspaper the Guy was holding.

 _Nixon accepts resignation of top—_ The headline read, before the rest of it was blocked by the Guy’s hand. It didn’t stop him from seeing the date, though.

Monday, April 30th.

_1973._

Dean mouthed ‘seventy-three’ in disbelief, trying to digest the fact that apparently, he’d time-travelled.

Suddenly the hippie clothes made a lot more sense.

The bell over the door ‘dinged’ as a new customer entered the diner. “Hey, Winchester.”

Despite there being no way anybody would know him, Dean’s head whipped around, the same time as the Guy’s did, too.

The newcomer walked up and shook the Guy’s hand. “Son of a bitch. How you doing, Corporal?”

“Hey, Mr. D.” The Guy greeted, smiling.

“I heard you were back.”  The newcomer continued, seeming thrilled.

“Yeah, a little while now.” The Guy nodded.

“Good to have you home, John, damn good.”

And the pieces suddenly connected for Dean. John. Winchester. Back from the army, wasn’t he? 1973. And the angel, Castiel, telling him to stop ‘it.’

Something was gonna happen, and he was sitting right next to his dad.

“Dad?” Dean asked, experiencing a momentary loss of control over his thoughts.

“Well, say hello to your old man for me.” Mr. D said, carrying on.

A thought struck Dean. Didn’t John’s dad, his grandfather, abandon John when he was a young kid?

“You got it, Mr. D.” John answered. Mr. D walked away, and Dean was left staring at his dad, the weirdness of the entire situation catching up to him and leaving him blindsided.

“Do we know each other?” John asked.

 Dean tried to stop. “I guess not.”

“Take it easy, pal.” John left the restaurant, Dean watching him go.

“Yeah.” Dean muttered at John’s back.

He waited a moment longer, then got up and began following him, keeping John within eye’s view. He tossed a few bills on the table and left quickly.

He was rounding a corner when he bumped into Castiel.

“What is this?” He demanded, stopping short and gesturing at the scene around him.

“What does it look like?” The angel retorted.

Dean tried a different tactic. “Is it real?”

“Very.”

“Okay, so what? Angels got their hands on some DeLoreans?” Dean asked. He was out and about in 1973, and the whole thing was giving him creepy vibes. It just felt wrong. “How did I get here?”

“Time is fluid, Dean. It's not easy, but we can bend it on occasion.” The angel answered.

“Well, bend it back or tell me what the hell I'm doing here!” Dean said, raising his voice.

“I told you, you have to stop it.” Castiel said, as if that made everything clearer. He stubbornly remained as helpfully vague as earlier.

“Stop what? Huh? What, is there something nasty after my Dad?” A little foreknowledge or at least a hint would be nice.

Chase rounded the corner blinking sleep out of his eyes, his hair messed up as if he had fallen out of bed and landed straight into 1973. He yawned, then froze when he saw the angel.

“Gods, you’re even more terrifying in person.” He commented. He didn’t sound particularly scared, maybe annoyed at the most, but Chase was a walking, lying, enigma.

And what was up with the plural ‘gods?’ Chase didn’t seem like was religious. Like, at all.

The angel made a disgusted face, and waved his hand. “Stop using the Mist. It’s highly distracting.”

Dean watched in amazement as Chase’s facial features shifted and he became just the slightest bit tanner, even changing height by a couple of inches as he morphed into someone that tickled Dean’s memory.

“Oh, screw you.” Chase said, raising his middle finger.

There was the sound of a dying bird, and when Dean turned to look back at Castiel, he was gone.

Chase breathed out in a sigh of relief, re-capturing Dean’s attention. “I’m glad he’s gone. It’s just so…. Eckhhh. Like holy water, but out the wazoo.”

Dean had no idea what he was talking about. “You- you’re not Chase. This entire time, you’ve been _hiding_. Who are you, really?” He held himself at the ready, prepared for the worst.

Chase ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Who are you?” Dean demanded. He wasn’t about to let Chase get away without answering again.

“Perseus Jackson.” Chase answered quietly. Dean still caught it. “I go by Percy.”

Oh. _Oh._

That’s where he recognized the face from.

_ Oh. _

Without warning, he grabbed Chase….Percy by the front of his shirt and tossed him against the nearby wall, before punching him solidly in the face.

“What the fuck, man?” He yelled, not caring about the attention he might get. He landed another blow. “Do you know what that did to Sam?”

Chase-Percy looked close to tears. “It wasn’t like I had a choice!” He defended. He raised his arms to block another punch.

“Are you kidding me? No choice?” Dean nearly screamed. “It killed Sam! And you just stood away, for what, three years, never once saying you were alive?”

Percy hung his head.

“And then what?” Dean continued. “You show up pretending to be somebody else to what, get close to Sam all over again?”

“No! Fuck no!” Percy said.  “I’m actually on a job, believe it or not.” There was a slight hesitation in the way Percy said ‘job,’ as if he wasn’t used to using the word that way. “Besides. You may recall,” He added sourly. “I never wanted to be here. There. Wherever.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

Percy understood what Dean meant. Not ‘why didn’t you want to be here,’ but ‘why did you stay gone,’ ‘what was so impossibly important that you couldn’t come back.’

The look in Percy’s eyes was heartbreaking when he looked up at Dean again, a red mark blossoming on his cheek. “Because the demon had Annabeth.” He stopped himself from saying more, looking at Dean with regret.

“What?” Dean asked, feeling like all the anger had gone out of him at once, but he must have heard wrong. “Demon?”

“Yeah…” Percy looked down at the ground. “In the apartment. That weekend after Halloween, when you took your brother and investigated the Woman in White.”

“How do you know that?” Dean asked, suspicious again. That was the day Percy had died. Or not-died.

“Iris messaging, and a light bit of stalking.” Percy said, voice quiet. “But it doesn’t matter. The demons have Annabeth, and they gave me three and a half years to get her back, in exchange for, and I quote, ‘the leader of their army.’”

Dean stared at Percy, who kept his head down. He couldn’t possibly be talking about Sam, could he? “Did the demons say that?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.” Percy nodded. “And they still have her hostage. Three years, and I’ve never been able to get close enough to get her. Problem is, I can’t give them what they want, because I don’t know who the hell their stupid leader is.”

Dean felt a sinking sensation. “Percy, demons aren’t people. They don’t hold hostages.” He ignored the whole part about their leader, not willing to let Percy know that the person the demons wanted was within reach.

Percy sagged against the wall. “She isn’t dead.” He said, sounding so sure of himself. Dean applauded his conviction to the fact.

“I’m not saying she’s dead.” Dean said. “But demons, they’re incorporeal. They can’t hold, physically. The only way for them to keep someone out of reach?”

Percy looked up, realization in his eyes. “Possess them.”

“Bingo.”

“If it’s anything like the eidolons… She wouldn’t know she’s possessed.”

“Well, I dunno what the deal with the idealists is, but demons like to make the hosts watch. If anything, I’d be willing to stake my life that Annabeth knows.”

“But she…Annabeth’s the one that told Nico about the Hunters!” He glanced at Dean, then looked away. “Artemis.”

“Yeah. They have access to Annabeth’s memories. They know everything she knows.”

“Then they have the prophecy.” Percy said. He smacked his forehead and looked to the sky, apprehensively. He looked slightly scared of it somehow. Dean could get fear of heights (having experienced it enough himself), but Percy’s reaction seemed unwarranted.

“What? You believe in that mystic mumbo-jumbo crap?” Dean asked.

Percy rolled his eyes. “Um , kind of. Since, you know, she was never wrong.”

At Dean’s questioning look, Percy explained. “The Oracle. Kinda like the one from Delphi, only she used to live in our attic. Now she’s just a part time visitor.”

Dean knew Percy was probably trying to confuse him. He just let it slide, promising mentally that he’d get straighter answers later. “What’s this prophecy, then? The one the demons have now?”

Percy looked him square in the eyes, and started reciting something that sounded suspiciously made up. “ _What once was separate, now is one/The Soldier, Boy King, and the Son/The sea seeks help, the stories shall merge,/The clock is ticking towards the Purge/But sulphur steals, till debt is paid/And a fateful bond re-made_.” He shook his head. “And, as with normal prophecies, we’re not gonna know what it means until it has already happened. And usually, prophecies give at least some direction, but this one…. Man, it sucks. Don’t bother puzzling it out.”

Unfortunately, Dean already had some pretty bad ideas of where the so-called prophecy was heading.

Percy looked suddenly worried. “Wait a second. Annabeth’s the one who told Nico the Hunters were dying. I have to stop Nico before he gets there. ”

“First thing’s first.” Dean said. “So far none of that’s happened. We’re still stuck in ’73. So if we’re gonna do anything about that, we gotta do whatever the heck the angel sent us here to do, and get the heck outta dodge.”

“Okay.” Percy stood up straighter.

He made to leave, then stopped and turned. “Please, Dean…Don’t tell Sam. Not yet.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Why not, huh? What’s the big deal?”

Percy shook his head. “I can’t. I’ve been gone too long, and besides, I’m just not important anymore.” He started walking away, to who knows where, and Dean speedwalked for a moment to catch up.

“Well that’s a stupid excuse. You wanna tell me the actual reason?”

“Dean. I can’t.” Percy said. He sighed. “I… I’m not the same Percy as I was three years ago. I’m really not here to stay. Why are you so worried about this all of a sudden?”

Dean couldn’t actually tell him. He didn’t know much himself, but having deemed Percy as at least half-way trustable, he felt determined to show Sam that Percy wasn’t dead after all. Plus, he was a shit liar when it came to Sam.

Percy seemed to have no such compunction.

“Well, when are you gonna tell him, huh? You plannin’ on keeping this charade up forever?”

“Yeah, actually!” Percy retorted. “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal to have everybody know my secret identity or whatever, but even so, I’m really not planning to stick around long enough for this to ever become an actual issue! I’m just here to fix the problem and go home! So let’s go fix it!”

Somehow they had ended up by a car dealership, and behind Percy, Dean spotted John yet again.

Percy turned around, glancing to check what Dean was watching.

“So, lemme guess.” He snarked. “Either you’re a closet narcissist, or that’s your dad. He looks like you.”

Dean didn’t even bother to grace that with an answer.

“And I would assume that’s the ‘it’ we have to stop?” Percy continued.

“Goddamn angel was about as clear as tar.” Dean grumbled, eyes alighting on a very familiar car.

Which John’s back was to, like he had no intention of buying it.

Well. That needed to be corrected.

Dean strode over purposefully, ignoring Percy’s “Hey!” and going to greet the other guy.

“That’s not the one you want.” Dean said, leaning on the past-Baby, watching John scrutinize the ugly-ass VW van. Beige. Really.

“You following me?” John asked defensively, just as Percy came jogging up to them. He blew an extra strand of hair out his face.

“No, no, I was just passing by.” Dean lied easily. He gave John a small smile. “I never got to thank you for that cup of coffee this morning. I was a little out of it.”

“More than a little.” John added.

Percy looked between the two, trying to figure out what had happened that morning.

“Let me repay the favor.” Dean said.

Percy looked at the car Dean was leaning on, and gave a soft, “oh.”  
  
“This is the one you want.” Dean said, patting the Impala fondly.

“Oh yeah, you – you know something about cars?” John asked.

Percy leaned over and started inspecting the Impala. There was no way he’d recognize it—this far in the past, the license plates were different, and all of the little scratches and Legos-in-the-vents and things like that hadn’t happened yet.

Somehow, though, he seemed to know it was the Impala.

“Yeah... yeah, my Dad taught me everything I know.” Dean nearly slipped and said “you,” but he caught himself in time. “And this – this is a great car.”

Percy looked it over.  “Dude.” He said. “I’m already jealous. And believe me, I—” He cut off when Dean gave him a glare. Dean had a suspicion of where that comment was gonna go, what with Percy’s tendency to over-share. And that was maybe the last thing he wanted.

“Who’re you?” John asked suspiciously.

“Jason Grace.” Percy said brightly, sticking his hand out. It seemed like all of his morose-ness from earlier had just evaporated in the face of John. Dean wondered how he had come up with a name so fast, because it was obviously fake. Disregarding the fact that Dean knew Percy’s real name, Jason Grace was just the kind of name both common enough and ridiculous enough to be impossible.

Dean wondered where he had pulled the name out of. No doubt Percy was thinking of his recent encounter of the angel. “Nice to meet you.” Percy added, almost like an afterthought.

John shook it, giving Percy a strange kind of side-eye.

“He with you?” John asked Dean.

“Unfortunately.”

Percy discreetly kicked Dean, and he must have been wearing special shoes or something because _ouch_ that hurt.

John looked at Percy again. He seemed to be judging him, somehow, and Dean was terrified that Percy would somehow manage to slip up and john would somehow know that the two of them didn’t belong in 1973.

Percy smiled (and honestly, he seemed like a hyper kid, just happy and cheery and all over the place) and pulled a pen out of his pocket, flipping it in the air and catching it casually. “Anyways, what’s the deal with the van?”

“I kinda promised someone I’d buy it.” John said. He looked at the Impala, and back at the van now behind him.

“Over a '67 Chevy? I mean, come on, this is the car of a lifetime. Trust me, this thing's still gonna be badass when it's forty.” Dean added quickly. Man, if his dad ended up buying that stupid van and that was what Dean-of-the-future was gonna be stuck with, he was gonna throttle Percy. He didn’t ask for the stupid guy to show up, anyways.

John was looking at the Impala again, seriously considering it this time, and Dean held his breath.

“John Winchester. Thanks.” He nodded.

Percy looked somehow relieved—but again, he couldn’t know what exactly was going on, could he?

Well, he had shown to be by no means stupid. Maybe he knew exactly what was going on.

Then the pen smacked Percy in the face and Dean was proven wrong. Percy gave an embarrassed little laugh, but kept flipping it.

“Dean Van Halen,” Dean introduced to him, hearing a barely-suppressed snort from Percy in the background. “– and thank you.”

Dean watched as John finally took a good look at the Impala, as opposed to thinking about that VW van.

“I was in pretty rough shape this morning, huh?” Dean asked.

“No kidding.” John said, looking relieved, like _Thank god this guy isn’t a weirdo all the time._

 _“_ I've been hung over before but, hey, I was…I was getting chills in that diner.” Dean carried on. “You didn't feel any of those cold spots, did you?”

“Nope.” John said.

“I swore I—” Percy cut him off.

“Thanks, John.” He said. “My friend’s got real sensitivity to air conditioning, that was probably his problem.” He stepped in front of Dean, and when he straightened to his full height, he was about the same height as Dean.

Fantastic.

“We’ll be out of your hair now.” Dammit, Percy was ruining this! There’d be no way he’d reasonably be able to find out anything from John whether anything supernatural was headed this way. “Bye.”

Percy started dragging Dean away,  making it seem willing to John, who was watching them curiously.

Dean had no choice but to follow, or be dragged around awkwardly while John stared at the freaks. He really didn’t need to make things worse between him and the man. He’d probably end up saving his dad’s life, sometime likely soon. He really didn’t want to make a worse mess.

“What the hell, man? Something’s going to happen, and you won’t even let me figure it out?”

“Who says we won’t be able to figure it out?” Percy smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re taking the easy way out, here.”

Dean slapped his hand off of his shirt. “No. But in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re not exactly taking a vacation, here.”

“Oh, I noticed.” Percy said. “I also noticed he’d promised _someone_ he was gonna buy the van. So it stands to reason he’s gonna wanna show that sexy black thing off.”

“Okay, one, never call _my_ car sexy. And B, how much stalking do you even do?”

Percy grinned impishly, and Dean knew he was in for a day of _up-to-something_.

“Fifteen buck’s says John’s got a _girllll-frieennnd!_ ” Percy sang.

“That’s my _mom!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. 3666 words. Um. I mean, I don't feel like this reveal was particularly surprising to, well, anyone, considering I kept getting reviews saying things along the lines of "OMGGGGGGG I HOPE PERCY AND SAM GET BACK TOGETHER AND IT'S ABSOLUTELY NO SURPRISE WHATSOEVER THAT CHASE IS PERCY" but ya know what? As politely as possible, i'd like to point out that if I was REALLY trying to hide Percy's identity, i'd have not inserted the BlackJack cameo.
> 
> Besides, I'll admit it here and now that the only reason i'm having percy hide is a) plausible personal trauma and b) i really love sitting back to watch the fireworks when two people get mad at each other.
> 
> So yeah.
> 
> And i know that i keep jumping all over the place, and the last chapter was kinda unexplained, but trust me. I'm a master procrastinator. I'll get all this shit explained later, and y'all are gonna be like "Whoooooaaaaaa. (insert gender here) was right all along!"
> 
> Who do you guys even picture me as? It's probs female, right? Cuz of the 'darling' in front of the 'impi.' Hmmmm......  
> Dude. I reallly really really wanna be cheekboney. please say you think i'm cheekboney.
> 
> Off-topic. Right.
> 
> Love you all!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all about Mary, isn't it? But who is she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing particularly interesting in this chapter. Just a continuation of "In the Beginning," and I know it's like exactly the same, nothing really new here, but things are gonna start changing. So yeah.
> 
> Also, it's my birthday!!! (I feel like this is my narcissism taking hold but hey everybody PAY ATTENTION TO MEEEEEEEEEEE)
> 
> So yeah. Another chapter, another dollar. Woohooo.

_But remembering that with the flurry of the past day and a half, nobody had yet checked if Chase was possessed or not._

_Feeling dazed, he whispered, "_ Christo _" within earshot of Chase._

_And dark eyes were turned on him._

.:~*~:.

**_Then:_ **

Percy heard Sam whisper “ _Christo_ ,” and he had to hold back a laugh. He knew what Sam was trying to do. Three years hunting down demons, trying to rescue Annabeth, yeah, he knew the lore.

And he wasn’t possessed.

He looked at Sam, a shadow covering the top half of his face.

Then he laughed. “Nice try, Sam, but I’m not possessed.”

Sam looked at him accusingly. “Sure.” 

Percy saw Sam slowly reaching for the salt behind him, as if moving slow enough would ensure Percy couldn’t see him.

Percy rolled his eyes. “Dude. Really. Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll cross a devil’s trap for you.”

Sam pointed to one on the floor and Percy walked straight into it, making sure so very obviously show that he was in the middle of it, before strutting out like he was working a catwalk.

Percy saw Dean fighting a smile.

He was struck by a thought. “How long have you guys been camping out at Bobby’s? You ever heard of an overstayed welcome?”

**_Now:_ **

Now Percy was sitting in the back of a 1980 Ford Pinto while Dean drove (and he had no clue where the damn car came from, seeing as they were camping out in 1973, a whole seven years prior) and fidgeting with his pen, getting restless.

He glanced out the window again, wondering for the millionth time what  _exactly_  was John Winchester, famed hunter extraordinaire, was up to today. And why whatever was going to happen couldn’t just happen right now when he and Dean were totally prepared and not doing anything.

He began messing with the seat, scratching it with his pen and making squeaking noises.

“Are we seriously not gonna talk about this car?” Percy asked.

Dean looked at him with the corner of his eye. “Nope.”

“But look at this!” Percy said. “ _1980!_ ”

“Oh for—” Dean said. “Would you  _stop_  with the stupid little noises already?”

Percy ostensibly stopped fidgeting, although he kept tapping a finger against his leg.

He glanced out the window, and noticed they were in a neighborhood.

“Is this your dad’s house?” He watched as a blonde woman who looked similar to Annabeth came running out of the house. “Is that your mom?” Percy asked.

Dean groaned. “What is with you? How much coffee did you drink?”

“It’s ADHD.” Percy said. “Keeps me alive, though.”

“That’s ridiculous. Next you’re gonna tell me that dyslexia lets you read every language that exists.”

“Unfortunately not.” Percy sighed. “Just Greek.”

“That’s so random.” Dean made a face.

“Not when you think about it.” Percy said, his eyes glued onto the woman who had to be Mary almost-Winchester. Definitely had to be, based on the way Dean was watching her.

Dean was saying something else, but Percy wasn’t really listening anymore. He caught the words, “theme” and “ducks,” though, but most of his attention was focused on Mary.

He couldn’t hear what she was saying to John from the distance he was at (several houses down was a bit much, and he was inside a car) but her body language spoke volumes.

_Where’s the van?_

Percy thought the Impala was actually a marginal improvement.  You could fit a body in the trunk.....theoretically.

Mary rolled her eyes and got in the car, looking at John again. She appeared to argue with him for a moment, before John started the car and drove off.

.:~*~:.

Percy had been watching John and Mary have milkshakes for way too long now. It was ridiculous.

He turned to Dean. “And, what are we supposed to be watching for, here? Those are your parents, right? We’re not supposed to break them up or anything?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “No. ”

“No, they’re not your parents, or no, we’re not supposed to break them up?”

Dean groaned. “Seriously, that is  _enough_.”  He turned to face Percy. “I have absolutely  _no clue_  what we’re looking for, because the angel was as clear as a bag of cats. Didn’t we already go over this?”

Percy was about to say something else, but was interrupted by a shadow looming over his shoulder. He spun around, and—

Mary punched him in the face.

Percy startled, falling back, and pulled out his pen on instinct, uncapping it and turning it into a sword. Dean nearly kicked Mary, until he realized who she was.

Percy glanced back into the diner, seeing that sure enough, John was left alone. He pulled a box out of his pocket, and despite the distance, Percy recognized it.

The guy was planning to propose.

“Why are you following us?” Mary asked, antagonism clear in her voice. She was ready for a fight.

Percy looked at Dean, letting him take the lead because heck knows this wasn’t  _his_  mother. 

“What? Are you crazy?” Dean played innocent.

Mary glanced at Riptide, and Percy could only guess what she was seeing. Percy hoped it was a baseball bat. He shifted it to an angle that would work better for a baseball bat but was absolutely ridiculous for a sword. Dean glanced at it out of the corner of his eye, looking irritated, and Percy knew he could see the sword.

“You've been trailing us since my house.” Mary asserted. 

“I don't know what you're talking about –” Dean tried again.

Mary tried to kick him, but Dean caught her.

“Really?” She said.

“Okay, how about we talk about this, huh?” Dean tried.

Percy looked at her charm bracelet. “You’re a hunter.” It wasn’t a question.

“Huh?” She looked at Percy, eyes wide. She stopped struggling against Dean.

Percy put away the sword (and he could only imagine how it looked to Mary) and gestured to the charm bracelet, which was decorated with a myriad of charms, including the Aquarian Star, a cross, and a pentagram. “Either you’re a hunter or a Satanist.” 

Dean laughed, and tried to look at Mary’s bracelet. She jerked her arm away, bracelet jingling, and directed her attention to Percy. “And you?” She asked.

“Well, I do my best to not die, so yeah. Think that counts. Chase Jackson, by the way. That's Dean. Van Halen.” He said, mocking Dean's fake last name. Thankfully, Mary didn't seem to catch on.

Mary seemed to relax a little, recognizing that Percy was like her. "I'm Mary." She offered, still seeming distrustful. “But why were you following us?” She asked.

“We were tracking a monster here, from out-of-state, and you and your boyfriend, you’re its type.” Percy lied quickly. “You seem to be able to handle yourself, though. If we’d have known you were hunters, we would have left you alone.”

“No, it’s just me. John’s…normal.” Mary said, buying into the lie. She calmed down, and stopped fighting the two of them. “Hey, why don’t you come over for dinner? My parents are hunters, too. Maybe we can help you find the thing.”

“Um, sure.” Dean said quickly. Percy elbowed him, but didn’t say anything.

How on earth was he going to come up with a plausible lie that would hold up in the face of two seasoned hunters? 

“Great. You already know where my house is, considering you’ve been stalking me all day. I expect you'll get along great with my parents, once they warm up to you. Just a warning, though, my dad can be a bit hardheaded. Don't let that get to you." Without saying anything else, she walked back into the diner and rejoined John.

Percy waited until he could clearly see her sitting at the table again, engaged in deep conversation with John, before he turned on Dean. “What in  _Tartarus_  were you thinking? We can’t just make up a monster! Her parents are hunters!”

“Those are my grandparents.” Dean said. “I never even met them.”

“And? You really think this is what we need to be doing right now?” Percy hissed.

“They died. Mom never told Dad why, she never talked about it.” Dean trailed off. “Maybe that’s what we’re supposed to stop!”

“Because, you know, messing with the timeline is  _always_ a good idea.” Percy snarked. 

“Do have any better ideas? ‘Cause, at the very least, that’s a start! We don't have any other leads.”

Percy rolled his eyes. “Just how hardheaded are you?” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t answer that. Whatever. Let’s go.”

Dean looked nothing short of thrilled, and Percy wondered how badly he was going to come to regret that decision later on.

.:~*~:.

Percy knocked twice on the door, Dean standing several feet behind him on the front steps. He didn't hear anything behind the door, no motion, but it swung open suddenly and he was staring face to face with an imposing, very bald, man.

"Um, hi?" He offered. He held out his hand and tried his best to appear like he wasn't up to no good. "You're Mary's dad, right? She invited us here..." He trailed off when the man just stared at him silently for a few seconds.

"You the hunters?" Baldy asked, eyeing Dean. "What're you chasing?"

"An empousa." Percy said, having already planned out his story. He had picked that kind of monster because let's be honest, the snakey ladies were freaky, but also because it was practically a guarantee that none of them had ever heard of it before.

Dean had looked confused when he'd mentioned it, so it seemed like a fair bet.

Baldy still seemed suspicious of them, though. He appeared to think about his words for a long moment, and then, "You kill vampires with wooden stakes or silver?"

Before Percy could say anything (likely condemning), Dean cut in. 

"Neither. You behead them."

Percy filed that away for later.

"Alright, good. So, tell me how to kill this empousa and get the heck outta dodge."

A sharp "Samuel!" Sounded out from inside the house, and after a few seconds, a woman appeared behind Baldy. She pushed him out of the way, and invited Dean and Percy in.

"I'm sorry about my husband." She said, smiling at them thinly. "Dinner's just about finished, would you boys like to stay for a while? You can tell us all about this...empousa." Her face screwed up like she'd just tasted a lemon.

Percy stepped inside hesitantly, looking around the warmly decorated house slowly. It was nice. It wasn't anything like his mother's apartment (and only now was Percy really feeling the full scope of the time difference) but it still felt like a home.

Mary was hanging out in the dining room, setting the table.

"Hey, Percy." She said, with a small wave. Her bracelet jingled, as if Percy needed yet another reminder of why he was there.

Baldy's wife extended her hand out to Dean, and he shook it. "I'm Deanna, and you've met my husband Samuel. Nice to meet you....?" She trailed off, waiting for Dean to give her his name. He answered absently, then turned to Mary.

"Samuel and Deanna?" He asked, sounding incredulous. "Really?"

Mary nodded.

Percy stood there for a moment, wondering what had got Dean so puzzled. It took him a couple of seconds, but he finally got it. Samuel and Deanna. Sam and Dean. Of course.

It would make sense that Mary would have named her children after them, if they had actually died, as Dean said. So, if they (they being Dean and Percy) changed that, there was no telling what would happen. It might be small, like Sam and Dean not being named Sam and Dean.

It might be huge, like the end of the world, because the boys weren't in the right place at the right time to prevent something happening. Heck, they might not even become hunters.

Percy couldn't risk it. He had to make sure that things were as they always were.

So now, instead of helping Dean with his heaven-sent job, he'd be secretly resisting him.

"Percy? Are you hungry?" Deanna asked, snapping him out of his reverie. "Food's ready."

Percy looked up, started, hand going to his pocket. He shook his head tiredly. "Yeah, I'm coming."

He sat down next to Mary, and looked at the food her mother had made. "It looks delicious." He complimented.

Deanna smiled warmly at him, and then spoke. "Is this your first time in Lawrence?" She asked.

Percy nodded, while at the same time Dean answered "No, it's just been a while."

Deanna nodded. Before she could say anything, though, Samuel cut in harshly. "Tell me more about the thing you two are hunting."

A quick look shared with Dean let Percy take the lead. "It's crossed several state lines already, which I imagine has already cause problems for lots of hunters. I'm kind of a specialist in it, though, and we've been following it for about two weeks now."

Samuel looked moderately interested. "Does it have a type? Mary here said that you mentioned it was targeting her and her boyfriend."

Dean looked hesitant to speak. "Well, the best we can figure is it’s been going after young couples. And the last lead we had on it was in this area."

"Does it have anything to do with the Whitshire Farm thing?" Mary asked.

Percy turned to her, confused. "Whitshire Farms?"

Dean tapped his chin, thinking. "That sounds really familiar. Why do I remember that?"

"It's been all over the papers." Samuel said. "Tom Whitshire. Got tangled up in a combine a few towns over. Thing is, all his crops were dead. So why'd he be on it?"

"That sounds more like demonic omens than an empousa." Dean said. He stuttered over the pronunciation a bit, but nobody other than Percy seemed to notice.

"That's why we're looking into it." Samuel said. "We're going over to Whitshire day after tomorrow to investigate."

"We could go." Percy offered. "If the empousa is really there, we'll be able to take care of it. You guys don't worry about it."

"Yeah, right. Turn my hunt over to you? See, Deanna, this is why I don't trust other hunters." Samuel complained. Deanna rapped him on the knuckles.

"We'd be happy to let you look over it. We've got a few other leads to look into, anyways." She said, glaring at her husband.

Percy smiled. "Thanks."

"I'll go with you!" Mary said suddenly, as if she had been working up the courage for a while to say that.

"What? No!" Dean said. "You've got absolutely no experience with this monster, and I don't think your parents here would be too thrilled with receiving your corpse." Deanna nodded in the background, but Mary ignored her.

"I'm competent. I'll be fine!" Mary defended, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

Percy rolled his eyes at all of the posturing, but decided to stay out of it. She wasn't  _his_  mother.

Dean sighed. "You can't come. Just don't."

Mary rolled her eyes and scoffed, but uncrossed her arms. "Ugh, fine. Whatever."

Dean looked mollified, but Percy couldn't help but think that Mary had given in too easily, if her disposition was anything like either of her sons'.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy and Dean finally catch onto what they're doing in 1973 (via much dialogue.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOOOOooooooooooooooooo..........this is late. But long. Late, but long. Ish.
> 
> I apologize if this seems confusing...I've been working on it in very small increments for the course of about two months, and as a result, it seems kinda choppy to me. But I really needed to get it out there, so....this is what ya get. 
> 
> And now, the weather.

Mary wasn’t stupid, not by a long shot. Nor was she blind. She’d been raised by hunters, for Chrissake, she knew how to use her senses! 

So, following that, she’d known for quite some time that there was something wrong with Dean and Chase. Well, not  _wrong_  per say, but just off. Chase looked at everything like it was, for lack of a better word, quaint, like he wasn’t used to any of it. Like he was extremely displaced.

And Dean just kept staring at  _her._  It was…weird. Mary really didn’t know what to make of it, so she largely ignored Dean. 

And then there was the way the two interacted… at times Chase deferred to Dean, like when the two of them were dealing with Mary, but when they were talking about the monster, Chase spoke more often than not.   

They had a weird partnership, to say the least. 

Mary’s curiosity was part of the reason she wanted so badly to join them on their hunt at Whitshire farms. She wanted to see more of those two, wanted to understand what was so strange about her that Dean kept staring, wanted to know why Chase was so peculiar. Why Dean could barely say “empousa” with a straight face. 

Why her parents hadn’t caught on to anything, and remained oddly oblivious for hunters with that caliber of experience. 

Why, why, why….the questions were piling up, over and over, and Mary just couldn’t let that go. So when the car outside the door started up, Mary slipped past her parents and watched the direction it drove off in, and then mentally followed them to the nearest motel using her mental map of the town she lived. 

Hunters were so predictable, honestly. Mary would have bet her bottom dollar that that’s where they’d be. 

“Mom?” Mary asked, heading back to the living room where her parents were. 

“Mary? What is it?” Deanna asked, looking up from her book. 

“Do you think they’re really hunting an empousa?” Mary asked, cautiously. “I’ve never heard of it.” 

Deanna looked over at her husband, and then back to Mary. “I’m not sure.” She said, slowly. “It’s really too late to call and bother anybody else, but tomorrow I was going to call one of our contacts and see if they’d heard of it before.” 

“But it’s not sketchy?” Mary pressed. “The accident at the farm, and then all of a sudden they just show up  _here_  of all places, saying something’s after  _me?_ ” 

“Things like that happen to civilians all the time.” Deanna said. “Would we really be so much different? They didn’t know we were hunters.” 

Mary thought back to Dean’s reaction on hearing her parent’s names. They might have not known they were hunters, but the two of them –or Dean, at least— certainly knew something. 

“Did they tell you how to kill it?” She pressed. 

“Bronze.” Deanna said. “Nothing special, just bronze. Strange though, usually it’s silver.” 

“Strange…” Mary echoed.  

Deanna eyed her. “You’re not planning to interfere with their hunt, are you?” She asked. 

“No, not at all.” Mary promised, already thinking of ways she could get past her parents. She could always lie and say she was going out with John… 

.:~*~:. 

Beth Whitshire was much more composed than one might expect from someone who had lost her husband. 

"You came to talk about what happened to Tom, didn't you?" She asked, almost confrontational. 

Percy wondered what exactly had gone down, because she didn't seem to be particularly grieving. If anything, she reminded him a lot after his own mother, Sally, after Smelly Gabe had been turned into artwork.... 

He started keeping an eye out for small tics that Beth might have, just in case. 

"Can you tell us more about him?" Dean asked. 

"Well, he was a real sweetheart when I first met him...But he was a bit of an alcoholic, and I could never get him to stop.... You know how it goes. I never wanted anything like this to happen to him!" She tacked on hastily, as if Percy and Dean would suddenly try to implicate her in his death. 

"He...was abusive?" Percy asked. 

Beth nodded. "It was awful. Thank heavens Charlie had the good sense to hide up in his room...I don't know what I would have done if my precious boy had ever been hurt." 

Dean looked disgusted, and Percy could only imagine his face right now. It was awful, the way she'd been treated, and Percy was secretly glad for his death. 

"Anyways, what happened?" Percy asked. 

"I don't know for sure." Beth said. "The official story was a machinery malfunction, but that just seems like a load of gibberish to me. He's always been good with his tools, at the very least." 

Percy really didn't like the implications that sentence carried, and he was starting to feel a little bit disappointed that Tom was already dead because a simple (however gruesome) death was rather unfair, in Tom's favor. 

"Does Charlie know anything?" Dean asked. 

Beth chewed her lip. "I don't know." She said. "I tried to keep him far away from it. There was only so much I could do, after all, but oh, did I try." 

"Charlie?" Percy asked. "Can we speak to him? Do you know where he is?" 

Beth nodded. "He's out back. Just... try to be sensitive, okay?" 

Dean had already turned around and started marching in that direction, but Percy hung back to speak to Beth more. He of all people could sympathize with her situation, and he wanted to make sure she was okay. 

"How bad was it?" He said quietly. 

Beth sat down on one of the nearby sofas, not relaxing but looking at least a little bit more comfortable. 

"You know how it is." She said. "I can tell. There really isn't a need for you to ask." 

"You were hurt. I just want to help." 

Without moving, she gave him such a cynical look that he almost felt embarrassed, and he had to remind himself that technically he was an intruder in the situation, that he had really no right to be butting in. He just couldn't help himself, though, she reminded him so much of his mom, the situation so paralleled it was eerie. 

"If you'd wanted to help, you'd'a been here when this first started. But nobody cared, then! So why do you care at all now?" She sighed, rubbing her face. "Just forget it. At least it's over now." 

Percy remained standing for one really awkward moment, before sitting himself down across from her. 

"The same thing happened to my mother." He said. "She married the wrong person, only she did it for me." He shook his head. "She's happy now, though, and things are so much better for her. You deserve the same thing." 

Beth smiled, but it was small, tired. "You're nice." She said. "I hope that you find what you're after." She stood up and began making her way to the kitchen, inviting Percy to follow her. "Coffee?" She offered. 

Percy declined. It wasn't as if he needed any additional energy. 

She shrugged and began making some anyway, presumably for herself. 

They stood in silence for several minutes, before there was a knocking on the door that didn't sound like Dean. 

While Beth was busy with her coffee, Percy stood and went over to the front door, opening it a fraction. 

Mary was standing there, all dressed up and looking impatient. However, when she saw Percy her eyes widened, and she stepped back, as if looking for an escape. 

Percy sighed. "What are you doing here, Mary?" 

"Chase! I was...looking into the Whitshire thing?" She tried, seemingly awful at lying for being raised a hunter. 

"Uh-huh." He said, incredulously. "And I'm the Pope." 

She looked away, and Percy stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. "Why are you here?" He asked again. "And I mean actually, not just some fib you made up at the last second." 

"I was...." Mary seemingly couldn't come up with any other excuse, and didn't seem intent on sharing the truth, so Percy let it slide. It couldn't be terribly important. 

Heck, she was probably trying to stalk Percy and Dean, either to repay the favor (unlikely) or because she was suspicious of them and wanted to know what was up (closer), which led Percy to wondering where exactly had he slipped up because there was no reason for Mary to be truly suspicious. 

All of a sudden, Dean appeared in the doorway behind Percy, before brushing past him to face Mary. 

"So, you snuck out anyways, huh?" He asked, though he didn't seem particularly irritated. 

He turned to Percy. "Got some stuff from the kid, and uh...it's not good. I'd tell you, but, well, Mary, so...." 

Percy nodded. But it wasn't exactly as if they could ditch her and go have their little private conversation with Mary stranded at the Whitshire's (and how on earth had she gotten there?) so the options were limited. 

Until Percy was hit with a stroke of genius. "Could always Mist her after." He suggested. 

Dean looked disgusted at the thought. "Seriously? That's your solution? Can't we just, like, wait until she gets home or something?" 

"No, because we don't know if your little 'Heaven-Sent-'" Percy used air quotes. "-mission has a timer on it or not, and I don't really want to risk it in case it does." 

Dean looked if he'd just been very suddenly reminded of his job, and Percy fought the urge to roll his eyes. And honestly, people thought  _he_ was the irresponsible one! 

"Listen, Dean. Is it important, or not? Because we have a job to do." He said, trying to be as authoritative as possible. 

Dean, looking reluctant and rather irritated, said, "The Yellow-Eyed demon. He's the one that caused this to happen, he's been putting contracts out on souls, to collect in ten years." 

"Yellow-Eyed demon?" Percy said. The way Dean had said it, it had seemed especially important to him. Like a personal vendetta, though that shouldn’t really be possible, since they were stuck in 1973 and Dean hadn’t really even been conceived yet. Which was yet another level of weird to think about.

Then Percy remembered that demons were basically immortal, and things started to fall into place.

He remembered, suddenly and without warning, that night a few days after Halloween. The demon that had sent him on this path, the one that had taken Annabeth….hadn’t he had yellow eyes?

“The one that killed our mom. Now he wants something with Sam. Well, wanted.”

“Wanted? Past tense?” Percy suddenly had a bad idea. “As in you killed him?”

Dean nodded. “Well, yeah.”

“No, no, no….” Percy freaked.  “You idiot!” He wasn’t sure if he was yelling at Dean or himself, but he was absolutely terrified. If they had killed the demon responsible for taking Annabeth, then who had her now? He’d been working for so long on tracking the damn thing down, finding a way to kill it so he could get Annabeth back, and now everything was gone!

Dean looked angry. “It killed my mom! Dad’s had us after it my whole life! And when I finally get a chance to kill it, what do you expect me to do, invite it to dinner?”

“Argh!” Percy was incredibly frustrated, on the edge of a panic attack. “Three years of my life, wasted! And now I have to start all over again in finding her, _Annabeth_ , thanks to you two… _geniuses_ , but this time I don’t have a head start! All the demons know who I am, by now!”

“Percy.” Dean said, face carefully blank. He was clearly attempting to calm Percy, and it was kind of –almost –working.

Percy startled when he heard his name, then looked down, suddenly ashamed of his outburst. Oh, the emotions  were still there, but it was kind of hard to keep it up when you knew you were being irrational.

“I know it sucks.” Dean continued, displaying unusual, true, compassion, not the fake stuff he used when dealing with grieving mothers and siblings. “I know that you’ve been working for this, believe me, I know. My whole life used to be devoted to tracking down a single demon.”

“The same one.” Percy muttered under his breath.

“But Annabeth was clearly important, right?” Dean carried on, either not hearing or ignoring Percy’s comment. “They wouldn’t kill her, not yet. They’d just move her to one of the other higher-ups. They’re targeting you, they wouldn’t let a-” Dean made a face “-a ‘good resource’ go to waste.”

Percy nodded. “Sure. But this still means I have to work on tracking her down all over again. And I’ve been told to watch over you two.”

Dean looked thoroughly displeased by the notion.

“Anyways,” Percy attempted to course-correct, get them back on track. “Why was Azazel after the souls? I didn’t think he was that kind of demon.” Percy thought about his casual use of the name, and how giant-fighting him would have flinched like it was some awful affront unto the powers that be. But was it really worth caring about at this point?

Dean gave him a look that implied that there was a lot of personal history riding on that statement that he didn’t particularly want to share. “He’s…trying to create a leader for his army.”

_Azazel’s helping the Titans?_ The first thing that sprung to Percy’s mind was Kronos’ monster army, but that couldn’t possibly be it. It was years in the future, the plans had barely been set in motion yet. The Great Prophecy existed, sure, but that was it. Luke hadn’t even been born yet.

And he was getting really distracted again.

Mary spoke up, then, startling Percy. “How do you know that?” She asked, suspicion laced heavy in her tone.

Percy nearly pulled his sword on her, and wondered exactly how –and why –she’d stayed quiet so long. It took him far too long to come up with a suitable answer, but by then Dean was already speaking.

“I happened to have a run-in with a particularly talkative demon a few years ago.”

Mary sighed. “Is there anything you two aren’t lying about?” She asked, not sounding accusatory, but resigned. “You stalk me, and go to the farm investigating, and seem to know exactly what to look for, but you lie _all. The. Time._ Have you told any truths since you’ve arrived?”

Percy didn’t even bother trying to look ashamed, because he really wasn’t. He was still prepared to make Mary forget this entire encounter, as soon as Dean gave the go-ahead, so he wasn’t unduly worried about what she thought of them.

So maybe he did have a bit of a reliance on the Mist, but who could blame him? It was the easiest way to create and keep a low profile, and that’s what he was trying to do, even when Nico had rather irritatingly sent _him_ to watch over the Winchesters (oh, he was _so_ not over that).

Dean, however, looked reluctant to mess with Mary, and Percy was getting increasingly close to stepping in, with or without Dean’s permission. Despite what Dean felt, Mary, to him, was unimportant and he didn’t exactly want their covers blown.

“Yeah.” Dean argued, sounding overly defensive. But he lost most of his validity when he actually had to stop and think about it.

Mary shook her head. “You two—you’re abysmal at lying. It’s a wonder to think you manage to pull off hunting at all. What are you actually doing here? And don’t feed me that empousa drivel. Those don’t come to the Americas.”

Percy was sorely tempted to correct her, but it would be useless anyways.

“We’re hunting a demon that, as you might have heard, killed my mother.” Percy took a moment to appreciate the irony in Dean’s statement.

Mary, for being however subtly called out on blatant eavesdropping (not that she could really be blamed, she was only four or five feet away), didn’t look guilty in the least.  She was really showing off her stubborn streak, keeping her mind on a single track until she got her answers.

“So then why were you following _me_?” Mary asked, eyeing them.

“You’re one of the targets,” Dean said. He rolled his eyes. “Is that _so_ hard to imagine?”

“Yes.” She said. “Because there really isn’t a way you’d know that. Demons aren’t nearly as ‘talkative’ as you make them out to be, not unless they’re gloating. Hell, the only way you’d know that is if you were time-travelers….” She trailed off, sounding less and less sarcastic. Percy could almost see the gears running through her head.

And then the penny dropped, and her eyes widened. She started hyperventilating, and fixated on Dean. “You…you’re….”

Percy didn’t hesitate, and bent the Mist over her as strongly as he could, doing his best to erase the memory. She collapsed, and he caught her before she could hit the wooden slats beneath them.

Dean didn’t even give him the stink eye, just processing everything with a stunned look on his face. “I…I didn’t think she’d be able to put it all together….”

“Yeah, well, Sam didn’t just pull Stanford out of his ass, did he?” Percy snarked. “You should give your family more credit. John aside, you’re all pretty smart.”

“You’ve never met him…?” Dean asked, starting off assertive but trailing off into a question.

“No.” Percy said. “But anybody who raises kids from a young age to toss themselves into dangerous situations is clearly missing a few brain cells. Now. What should we do with your mother? I’m fairly sure Grandpa Sam is gonna kill us if we drop her off like this.”

Dean, still staring with wide eyes, suggested putting her in the back seat of the car, until she woke up.

Percy hoisted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, then stalked off in the direction of the car, Dean following slowly behind.

He dumped her unceremoniously inside the Impala, ignoring Dean’s “Hey!” (Though was it for his mother or his car? He wasn’t sure) and facing him.

“What do you want to do, Dean?” He asked, having run out of ideas. Theoretically, they could try to track down the body that the demon’d stolen, but that wouldn’t do much good. He’d just go and possess somebody else.

Dean thought for a moment. “Well, we have some really clear leads. We know that Yellow-Eyes is here, recruiting souls, and that at some point or another he’s going to be coming after Mom. Can we just wait it out or something?”

Percy was thinking. “Today’s April 31st. You said that the demon’s collecting on his bargains in ten years?”

“Yeah, why?” Dean said, though the look on his face told Percy he was slowly catching on.

“Ten years, and two days.” Percy said. “That’s Sam’s birthday.”


	11. Interlude: A Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas update, everyone!

The first thing Sam became aware of was the turkey. There was a turkey. And not the Thanksgiving, ready-to-eat,  _cooked_  turkey, no, this one was alive and very,  _very,_  noisy. And also bright red. Sam raised an eyebrow at it, but beyond that, he didn't feel overly perturbed by it.

A dream, then.

The turkey barked at him (barking? It was barking now?) and out of nowhere, Percy came flying at it, trying to tackle it to the ground.

Even in a dream, Sam's heart leaped. He wanted to shout out to Percy, but was afraid of making the dream dissolve. No, he'd rather keep this bittersweet reality to himself, turkey and all.

Percy noticed him, though, and waved brightly, dropping the turkey on the ground without a second thought (it growled angrily) and jogging over to Sam.

Sam hardly dared breathe. This was one of the best dreams he had had in a while, he didn't want to spoil it.

"Sammy. You just gonna stand there and stare at me blankly, or what? I'm not gonna disappear, you know."

There were too many things in Sam's head, and he couldn't decide what to say. Numbly, he settled on, "The turkey was red."

Percy glanced back, and nodded, huffing out a light laugh. "Yeah...It's kinda like Apollo's sacred cows, but...a bird."

"Bird." Sam echoed.

Percy gave him a  _Look._ "What's gotten into you, Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "Um...nothing, I guess. I just wasn't expecting to...see you." His head felt stuffed with cotton. Everything seemed so odd. The only dreams he ever had about Percy were nightmares, but this one...seemed kind of like it was on crack, if he were honest.

Percy nodded, like he knew exactly what Sam meant. Then again, he was a construct of Sam's mind. Of course he'd know.

"Well, the turkey got away. Wanna come visit the Labyrinth with me?" Percy was acting like this was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

"Sure...?" Sam trailed off. "Wait...like  _Minotaur_ , Labyrinth?"

Confidently, Percy grabbed Sam's hand, and lead him over to a grate in the ground, with a ladder descending deep into the earth. 

"Oh, he's long gone." Percy said dismissively, taking off the grate and slowly climbing down. "Careful....there's a missing step here."

Sam took a deep breath and exhaled, slowly following Percy down. He felt the missing rung, and thankfully did  _not_  plummet to his doom, but made it to the bottom safely.

When he got his first look at the so-called Labyrinth, his breath left him.

They were in a lavishly decorated hallway, marble pillars lining the walls, with mosaics inlaid into every available surface, depicting the ancient Greek Gods. Sam recognized most of the Olympians, but try as he might, there was nothing remotely close to a sea god, or Poseidon, anywhere on there. It was still beautiful.

At the end of the hallway, at either end, there was a fork in the path, allowing them to go either left or right. Sam didn't go anywhere though, instead watching Percy.

He looked stunned, amazed, a whole myriad of emotions that said this place meant a lot to him.

"Percy?" Sam asked.

Percy turned confused eyes on him. "I've never seen this hall before."

Sam didn't understand what Percy was trying to get at. He voiced, this, and Percy rolled his eyes.

"It's a dream. Don't you think I would have gone with what I know?"

"What... _you_...know?"

Percy snorted. "For something my subconscious came up with, you seem awfully...slow. No offence."

"But this is my dream..." Sam argued. "The first one about you that wasn't a nightmare."

Understanding crossed Percy's face, until he realized what Sam had actually said. Then he just looked saddened by the notion. Instead of saying anything, he just took Sam's hand again, and started leading him down the hall. 

"Do you know where you're taking me?" Sam asked.

Percy shook his head. "Not a clue. Want to explore the maze?"

Sam didn't have any arguments, no problems with that, so he allowed Percy to drag him around.

They took a left into a dirt tunnel, with small scales lodged into the floor and walls. Sam picked one up, looking at it curiously.

Percy also picked on out of the walls and examined it, before casually tossing it over his shoulder. "Giant snake, you think?"

Sam put the scale in his pocket, somehow fascinated by the idea of a snake as big as the tunnel around them.

The next tunnel led them to an arena, deserted and yet still horrifying. Strung across the ceiling were chains, a few ripped from their hooks, with skulls impaled every few feet. It reminded Sam of a monstrous version of chainmail.

Percy was walking towards the middle of the arena, where one chain hung down lower than all the rest. He looked lost in thought, dazed, and Sam didn't know if he should catch Percy's attention or not.

This Percy, the one he was seeing now, was certainly nothing like the one he had known in life, the one who was cheerful and avoided all talk of family (Sam hadn't ever really thought too much of it, because he'd been focused on pretending that his wasn't a mess as well), who loved blue to an obsessive degree, and who had had so many friends that he'd left behind (but he was going to get back to them one day, Percy had been so sure) and all of a sudden Sam needed to take a closer look at Percy, get a chance to  _really_ see.

"Percy!" Sam called, and Percy turned around almost too fast, like he'd been startled.

He put on a smile that looked oddly fake, and Sam began seeing all the little things that he hadn't noticed. There was a tattoo on Percy's arm, and that wasn't anything unusual, but now it looked like a burn (and yes, Sam was  _very_  familiar with burns. He'd grown up a hunter, and there were a lot of things that needed the burn to be killed), and Percy's hair was longer. He had a streak of hair that was slightly lighter than all the rest, not as midnight black. He carried himself differently. But most of all, the strangest thing about Percy was that he seemed so much more complex,  _alive,_ than a dream should be.

"What?" Percy asked, dropping the chain (when had he picked it up?) and stepping closer, dodging a specific spot on the floor.

"Percy...Is this your dream?" Sam asked.

Percy didn't say anything for a long moment, then, "...I think....maybe we're sharing."

Before Sam could even begin to guess what that meant, Percy grabbed his hand one more time, fingers interlacing in a tight grip that meant he wasn't letting go, not if he had a choice. It was familiar, nice, and Sam relished it.

This, time, Sam was the one to pull them to the other door, not knowing what to expect. It was Percy's dream, sure...but it seemed oddly fluid.

Sharing, though...sharing a dream? Sam couldn't help but hope, couldn't stop the rising in his chest...If Percy was also dreaming...he was alive. Somewhere, Percy was alive.

The years fell away almost like magic, and Sam felt as if he'd never lost Percy. He felt so, so much better. He was going to get his boyfriend back, but first they needed to chat. Sam needed to get it all out, his relief at Percy being alive, his hurt at the loss, and just....

As if knowing what Sam was thinking, Percy sat the two of them down on a bench on the porch of some large house. Instead of being imposing, though, it was comforting. Sam wondered if this was where Percy had used to live.

"You're...alive?" Sam asked.

Percy's face grew solemn, like he'd been expecting that question but not wanting it. "Yes."

Sam felt calm, still, not how he'd expected after finding out his long-dead boyfriend actually  _wasn't._  "How?" He asked.

"I...um...Fire doesn't affect me as much as it does others?" Percy made it sound like a question, like he wasn't actually sure whether this was the case.

Sam had a sudden flashback to the last night he'd seen Percy, on the ceiling, like his mother. "But the wound..."

Percy shook his head. "I'm fine, see?" He lifted up the bottom of his shirt to reveal smooth skin, no scars, but Sam still caught that he'd managed to avoid actually  _explaining_  it.

Sam blinked, long and slow, and let out a breath. There were so many things he wanted to sat, questions he wanted to ask, but this was too precious to him, he didn't want to ruin it. Sam wanted to hold on to this memory tight and never let it go.

When he looked up, he saw Percy watching him, a sort of wistful smile on his face.

"I want to explore the Labyrinth." He announced, and though some people might have taken as a brush-off, as a harsh subject change, but Percy understood, didn't he? He understood as he always did, and wordlessly grabbed his hand, pulling him through the halls.

There was one lined with crystals, blue and green and purple, and so beautiful that Sam couldn't help but break one off when Percy wasn't looking and jam it in his pocket. It was a warm weight at his side, and Sam somehow was reminded of something old.

Percy was a couple of steps ahead, tracing the walls, before the Labyrinth took a sharp turn right.

"Is this the basement of a building?" Sam couldn't help but feel a little stupid saying that, but Percy only laughed and nodded. 

"Yeah. A hotel, to be exact." Percy didn't offer any more explanation, though, and Sam didn't press.

The next hall...was actually one Sam recognized. It was lined with lockers, and a single tile about halfway down that was sideways and as irritating as ever, and Sam was fourteen again and in school.

Percy, seeing Sam's face, shook his head and opened one of the classroom doors, pulling him through. Sam was about to protest, when one look in the classroom stopped him mid-thought. Instead of neat rows of desks, scattered pencils and crumpled papers like Sam remembered, there were grass hills, dotted with animal pens, boasting the strangest creatures Sam had ever seen.

There were chicken-horses, and the freaky red cows that Percy had mentioned earlier, and a weird dog running amongst it all.

There was also a pen of relatively normal looking horses, and Sam thought that was probably the safest thing to investigate, so he started walking in that direction.

A tug on his sleeve stopped him before he could take too many steps, and Sam turned around to see Percy shaking his head. "I wouldn't, if I were you."

Sam glanced back, and suddenly all the horses were smiling predatory grins (and that was terrifying enough, in and of itself) lined with wicked sharp teeth.

"Oh." He said.

These were all monsters(?) that he'd never seen before, wicked and strange and Percy was acting as if they were all absolutely everyday, and suddenly Sam was seeing him in a new light. 

"What is this place?" He asked.

"Just another place, connected to the Labyrinth. Geryon's farm."

"I've...heard that name before." Sam said, wracking his brain for information.

"Yeah." Percy nodded. "Greek mythology, I'd imagine."

"Yeah." Sam said.

Percy dragged him to a grate inlaid into the ground. "Come on. We're going back down."

" _Back_ down?" Sam questioned. He didn't remember having climbed up at any point, so didn't it just mean they were going deeper down into the Labyrinth, Inception-style?

"This place exists in the real world. Not sure where, but the point is, it's only connected to the Labyrinth, not an actual part of it." Percy explained, as they landed in a long corridor with a pile of rubble on one side.

"This is all very weird." Sam admitted, as he caught sight of a woman with snakes for legs quickly walking (slithering?) away, disappearing before Sam could look too long.

"This is my world." Percy said. "Well, I didn't live in the Labyrinth, but everything you see is something I've had the misfortune of running into before."

"Even the horses?"

"They called me sushi." Percy deadpanned.

Sam almost wanted to laugh.

"Here, I want to show you something. Look up."

Sam did so reluctantly, because the sun was bright up overhead and he didn't understand what Percy wanted him to see. Suddenly, though, the sun was sinking as if it had lead weights tied to it (obviously Sam understood why that wouldn't work, but it was a nice-sounding simile), and the moon was being dragged up, along with millions of little stars.

Sam gasped. He didn't have a degree in astrology, but he knew where the stars where supposed to be, and something was definitely off.

Percy pointed out a particularly bright constellation. "Zoë." He said.

Sam followed his finger, and watched as he traced out the pattern of a girl, running across the sky. He could almost see it as a real person, it was so clear and bright.

"Is this real?" He asked.

"She was one of the Hunters of Artemis." Percy said. "She was real, and so are the stars."

"It's beautiful." Sam said.

Percy smiled brightly at him. "I thought you might like it."

Sam was quiet, again, just as he had been for most of their journey.

"Hey, Sam?" Percy said, sitting himself down on the grass and inviting Sam to follow.

"Yeah?" He asked, dropping down unceremoniously and nearly landing on Percy.

"I want you to know that I never wanted to leave you. I want you to know that it's been hard for me, and that I always wanted to come back."

"But you didn't." It wasn't an accusation, just a statement.  _You may have wanted to, but you never came back._

"No. But I will, soon, I promise."

"Why?" Sam asked. "Why now?" He was still looking at Zoë, memorizing the pattern so he could find it again when he woke up.

"I need your help, Sam. You're a hunter."

Something about that comment startled Sam out of whatever sort of fog he'd been in with Percy. "How did you know that? We had a normal life together. We were normal."

Percy laughed cynically. "We never were. You were raised to hunt monsters, and I was born to satisfy a prophecy. It was just an illusion. We were both running away."

"No." Sam said. "How? How did you ever learn about my past?"

"The three years I've been gone, Sam. You may have thought I was dead, but I've been busy."

"I...Percy..." Sam felt stunned. He didn't know how to respond to any of the information he was being fed. Maybe he was okay with learning Percy was alive after all, but this? Percy suddenly knew everything Sam had tried to keep him away from, and it was just.... shattering.

Percy kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sorry. I am. But I'll see you soon, I promise."

"Soon? You said that. When is soon?" Sam asked. He stood up.

"I don't know. Maybe a year. Maybe tomorrow."

Sam looked up, almost out of exasperation, but then he saw the sky. The stars of Zoë were starting to fade. The sky didn't seem as dark as it had moments ago.

"Is the sun rising again?" Sam asked.

Percy shook his head. "No."

The edges of Sam's vision grew blurry, then faded to white. 

Percy smiled. "I love you, Sam."

Then he disappeared, and Sam was left in a blank white dream, all evidence of Percy erased, the dream gone.

.:~*~:.

When Sam woke up, it was to a feeling of complete calm, better than he'd felt in a long while.

He must have had a nice dream. It was a shame he couldn't remember it, though.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary has an unfortunate encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY FUCKING SHIT GUYS I DID IT. *slams mug on ground* ANOTHER
> 
> Um. I think we've missed Valentine's day......but to be fair nobody I know likes that holiday anyways.
> 
> All my friends are heathens.
> 
> Okay, so, I'm finally giving in and sharing my personal playlist for this fic. It's all just a bunch of generic crap you've probably heard a billion times before, but so help me if I hear any one of these songs I just--They've become GaG's theme songs, to me. Fire Meet Gasoline especially. I don't care if some of them aren't really relevant--they're my GaG music and so help me I love it.  
> So, uh. Ta. https:// drive. google. com/ open?id= 11taTpBOm9s9M1Ixlqz8pCmYWEGjXE38T (just take out the spaces, you know the drill.)

_Percy was thinking. “Today’s April 31_ _ st _ _. You said that the demon’s collecting on his bargains in ten years?”_  

 _“Yeah, why?” Dean said, though the look on his face told Percy he was slowly catching on._  

 _“Ten years, and two days.” Percy said. “That’s Sam’s birthday.”_  

A moment passed, then another. 

Neither Percy nor Dean said anything. 

The silence stretched on. 

Eventually, it got to the point where Percy felt he had to say something. He never was really any good with the awkward silences.  

"Demon deals....they're always for ten years, right?" 

A dark look crossed Dean's face. "Usually." He said. "Exceptions are made." 

Percy almost took a step back. Dean usually seemed so lighthearted, but this felt dark, and terrifying. This felt like Tartarus. 

But he didn't. He'd been through worse, and a bad mood of Dean's was, ultimately, nothing. Bad history aside. 

He didn't ask what the exceptions were. 

Percy stood still for a moment, letting Dean stew in his bad mood while he ran through all of the things that could possibly happen that'd lead to a demon deal. 

And not any demon, no. One of the biggest and baddest, ol' Yellow-Eyes himself. The one who had tried to kill him Halloween night three years ago. The one he'd been hunting down after Annabeth was taken. 

And now it was traipsing about in the past, getting up to some serious shit. 

And the thing was, thanks to Dean, he knew it wasn't time-travelling. Which mean whatever it was trying to do had been meticulously planned out for a long time. And when you take demons' flighty, lying, sadistic nature into account, and how rare it was for them to actually organize... 

He took a moment to share his train of thought with Dean. 

"Fuck." Was all he said, essentially mirroring the circles Percy's brain was running in now. 

"What do we do?" Percy asked. "I mean, some heavy shit's being readied for, here. I'm like ninety percent sure this is what Feathers sent us to do. And really, all we have right now that'd work is my sword." 

"Oh." Dean said. He was quiet for a moment, then, "I thought you were just really into Medieval roleplaying." 

"Ancient Greek." Percy muttered. "It's more about the material, anyways. Celestial Bronze. I don't know how well it works on angels, but it definitely messes up demons. I got one of Azazel's hands." 

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, there isn't really much we can do to go against him right now.....not without killing him." 

"But can we not kill him now?" Percy said. "Like, we could, but that would be opening a really big can of timey-wimey worms. Do you really wanna risk it?" 

"If it stops the demon? It would save my mother." Dean didn't hesitate. "Yes." 

Percy nodded. "Alright then." He said. 

They had a plan, now. It was small, but it was definitely a start, and that relieved some of the stress that had been building up. For all of their floundering about in 1973, they now had a definite direction.  

Kill the demon. 

Well, until Dean opened his mouth again. "How the hell –and I don't say that lightly –are we supposed to track down a demon?" 

Percy grinned. "What, did you think I sat on my ass for these last three years? Please. I'm basically an expert in demon-tracking." 

Dean looked slightly mollified. 

"And besides, it's not like we're totally shooting in the dark, here." Percy said. "We know that it's Azazel. We can, I dunno, summon him or something." 

Percy leaned against the Impala, casting a quick glance at Mary, who was still dead asleep inside the car. 

Dean seemed to decide that the conversation was over, getting in the car, but Percy wasn't quite finished with him. 

He got in the passenger side, and as Dean started up the car, he started to speak again. "I know of your vendetta against "witches," Dean. You gonna kill me if I start using esoteric arcane shit?" 

Dean made a face like he really didn't like being called out, and started pulling out of the Whitshire's driveway. "Dude, do what you gotta do. I don't care. But I want you to save my mom." 

"Winchesters." Percy muttered. "Always against stuff until it suits you." He knew it was an incredibly cheap shot, but nevertheless he couldn't help but take it. 

Dean gave him a look that warned him to shut up.  

Percy did. He'd made his point anyways, there was no reason to antagonize Dean further. 

Dean started driving, having cleared all of Beth's property, and it was then that Percy realized he didn't know where they were headed. "Um," he started, all assertiveness from moments prior essentially gone. "What are we going to do about-" He made an aborted gesture to the woman in the back seat. 

Dean's eye twitched. "We have to keep an eye on her until the demon comes for her." 

"No doubts her parents are going to love that." Percy said under his breath. "Wait. I thought we were gonna try to summon it?" 

"You're telling me," Dean snarked. "That after  _all that,_ you haven't put the pieces together?" He took a sharp left, and Percy was thrown into the window. 

He didn't bother answering. 

"Think about it," Dean carried on. "Ten years until my brother's birthday. Demon deals last for ten years. C'mon, man, it shouldn't be so surprising. And on top of that, we know it's not just any demon, but Yellow-Eyes himself, the single demon responsible for ruining my family's entire life. I know he's coming." 

The worst part was, Dean wasn't entirely wrong, either. 

Still, Percy would have preferred to be actively doing something, rather than sitting around waiting for the demon to show up. Plus, that put the power on the demon's end, seeing as he'd essentially be able to dictate the "when," if not the "where," of his arrival. 

.:~*~:. 

Three hours later, and Mary was starting to wake up. Percy thought that was actually pretty good, for a last-second Misting, but he couldn't exactly put her back under for fear of damaging her mind. 

It sucked, and the situation she was waking up into wasn't what Percy had been hoping for. He thought Dean would have let him put Mary back in her bed and that would be that, but instead now they had to figure out a way to take care of Mary without her flipping out. 

Fun. 

"Chase?" Mary questioned, eyes fluttering open. 

Dean had left about five minutes ago on a snack run. Convenient timing, that. 

"Um, hi." Percy waved awkwardly at her. 

"Where am I?" She asked slowly. 

"How much do you remember?" Percy asked, trying to divert her. She was a hunter, hopefully she'd understand. 

Mary shook her head slowly. "Not...much. I....." She took a deep breath, and started again. "I remember, we were at the farm, and I heard you two talking about a demon. But....I don't remember any specifics. I don't remember how I got here, wherever here....is...." 

Wow. Even then, that was more than Percy had been expecting. He hadn't exactly been acting subtle. He'd have thought the entire day would have been lost, but hell, Mary still almost-kind-of-sorta remembered what she'd heard. 

The Winchesters really were made of something else. If it wasn't for their situation, Percy would have applauded her. 

Mary's eyes widened as she took everything in, and her breathing got shallower. Before she could start to panic, Percy started talking, loud at first to get her attention. "It's okay, Mary. You're just back at our room. We didn't want to leave you at Beth's, in case you weren't doing too hot....plus, I didn't want to dump too much on a grieving wife." 

Percy hoped she wouldn't catch that he'd left out what had actually happened to her. 

Thankfully, she seemed caught up in something else, and was muttering to herself. 

Percy caught the words "two guys" and "room." 

"You two...you're....like that?" Mary asked. 

Oh. _Oh._

Percy flushed red. "No, you've got it wrong. We're...." He fished for an excuse. "We're cousins." He finished lamely. 

Mary arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Listen, I know there's a lot of stigmatism around that thing, but I'm not going to judge you." She said. "Especially considering you're hunters. I know it can get hard." 

Percy kept shaking his head. "Really, I swear. You've got it wrong. But, um....Thanks for not being a homophobe?" 

Mary rolled her eyes. "You're about as eloquent as a beached whale. Where's your... _cousin_?" Her voice was practically dripping in skepticism. 

"He went out for food," Percy said. 

Just then, there was a knock on the door, surprising Percy. 

"I didn't expect him to be back so fast." He muttered. "It's not exactly like there's any 7-Eleven's nearby." 

But when Percy opened the door, it wasn't Dean standing there, but John Winchester, wearing a sleazy grin. Behind him was Deanna, standing stock-still, wearing an unnaturally blank expression. 

"Mary? That you?" He called into the room, looking more than a little inebriated. 

"What in the hell?" Percy muttered. 

John made a move to enter the room but Percy blocked him, pushing him back out. Something very clearly wasn't right, here. 

Another red flag raised when Deanna made no move to stop John, even though the Campbells had always seemed overly protective of their daughter. 

Granted, Percy had only met and interacted with them once, but once had been enough. 

"Let me see my girlfriend!" John demanded. Percy blocked him again when he tried to sidestep, and shook his head. 

"John.  _John_ , listen to me." Percy tried reasoning. "You don't seem to be in your right mind." 

John was having none of it, making a myriad of unpleasant faces, trying still to push Percy out of the way. 

Deanna still wasn't moving. 

Something was seriously wrong here, and now Percy was torn. 

The goal....not to sound completely unempathetic, but the goal here was to protect Mary. The goal was to get rid of the demon. But what was Percy supposed to do about John? 

Percy tried one more time to gently push him out of the doorway, but Mary finally caught sight of her boyfriend. 

"John? John, is that you?" She called out. Percy face-palmed. 

John brushed past Percy, practically storming into the room, and Deann breezed by dazedly, leaving Percy at the open door. 

He shut it, instincts screaming that it was a bad idea. 

"Mom?" Mary asked. 

John slowly pulled out a knife, but he never moved closer to Mary. Or Deanna, for that matter. He just stood there menacingly. 

"John, what are you doing? Mom, what's going on?" Mary asked helplessly. 

Right. Because she'd only just woken up. Hell, she must be feeling numb. That tended to happen to people who'd been Misted. Well, as least as heavily as she had been. 

"Yeah, I kinda wanna be clued in here, too." Percy added. "And, since John seems to be a bit out of it, Deanna, would you mind telling me what the hell you're doing?" 

Deanna also pulled out a knife, one of the ones Percy had seen her using in the kitchen to make last night's dinner. 

Fuck. 

John started moving, in nearly a blur of motion, and without a second thought, Percy leapt forward, intent on saving Mary from the very worst of the blow— 

But it never came. 

Mary was fine, but....  

Percy watched in horror as John stabbed himself in the leg, blade going nearly all the way through. He yanked it out with brutal force, causing maybe more damage than it had on the way in. 

Behind him, Deanna did the same, albeit robotically, like a puppet on strings. Very violent strings. 

Mary cried out, reaching for her mother, for John, Percy didn't know....he tossed her on the bed, as far away from them as possible. 

John smiled –how he did, Percy didn't know –and started talking. 

"Mary, dearest." 

Cold rushed over Percy, and with a start, he realized,  _John was possessed._

Then an unseen force flung him against the back wall of the motel room, hard enough to leave him seeing stars. He tried to move, but he couldn't. He was stuck on the wall, pinned like a god-damned butterfly. 

Then John's eyes flickered black, solid like somebody had gouged out his eyes and replaced them with obsidian spheres, and Percy couldn't have moved even if the demon's power let him down, because. 

Dean was wrong, it wasn't the Yellow Eyed Demon, Azazel—he wasn't after Mary, not right now anyways, he was lost to the wind and instead there was some generic bottom-feeding scum standing right in front of them, and Percy'd been too stupid to even think of putting up precautions, because he, in all his hubris, had thought there would be no way any demon would come for them on day two. 

Well. It really got the drop on them, didn't it. 

Mary was standing up, now, still looking shaky and weak but nonetheless trying to rail against the demon. 

Deanna was bleeding out, too much more blood loss and she'd be dead, the only thing keeping her standing the demon's power over her. 

What Percy wouldn't give for holy water right now. 

"What the hell-" Mary floundered. "Let them go!" 

The demon possessing John chuckled. "Hell is accurate, Mary, dearest. But, uh...as for letting them go-" He gave a wry smile and shook his head, looking almost apologetic. "No can do." 

Percy strained, trying desperately to peel himself off the wall, but he couldn't move. "Mary...." He tried to speak, but the demon shot him a look, and his mouth was glued shut. 

Mary was trembling now, tears gathering in her eyes as she watched the injuries on her mom leach their bodies of color. " _Exorcizamus te._..." She started. 

The demon's eyes snapped back to her. "Come on, now, none of that."  

Still holding the knife, he advanced on Mary, walking smoothly like he didn't have a giant hole through his thigh.  

He pointed it delicately in front of her face, using his free hand to tilt her chin up so she was forced to look at him.  

Mary was still mumbling an exorcism, but the demon seemed largely unaffected aside from a few jerky winces. 

He brought the knife up, but before he could move the door unlocked and Dean walked in, questionable-looking chips in his hand. 

Despite the severity of the situation, Percy couldn't help but judge his flavor choice. 

"What the..." Dean asked. 

The demon kicked Mary in the knees, dropping her to the ground, and turned to Dean, eyes still a horrifying black. 

Dean was smart, though. He dropped the chips, and, seeing Riptide lying on the table, he grabbed it and uncapped it. He looked a little unsteady with the sword in his hand, but he took a swing at John anyways. 

Percy wanted to facepalm _. It's not a baseball bat, you oaf. Don't hold it like that._

Dean's eyes flicked to Percy, still stuck on the wall, and the demon took advantage of his distraction to step far too close into his space, nearly taking a chunk of shoulder with its knife. 

Dean retaliated, swiping again with Percy's sword (Oh, Percy was cringing so hard inside right now) and getting it stuck in the bone of John's forearm. 

It lit up from the inside like cheap movie effects, like Azazel's hand had, and John's arm hung limply at his side, gaining a slow sheen of red. 

The demon hissed, and Dean yanked the sword out of his arm. 

With its concentration broken, Percy dropped to the floor, and he quickly ran up to Dean, grabbing his sword maybe a bit harshly. He pointed to Mary, who was laying on the floor, clutching her leg which was bent just a bit too far back to really be okay. 

While Percy was busy with the demon, Dean went over and sat Mary on the bed, helping her with her leg and keeping and eye on Deanna. 

The demon clearly didn't know what to make of two able-bodied hunters and one that could still fire a gun from her spot on the floor. 

It did what any cornered animal would do, and it lunged forwards, hissing like a deranged cat. 

Thank god for Annabeth –compared to her, fighting this demon was like pushing over a baby. Sure, the demon was wild, but that was all it had. 

Well, until Percy got in a slice at its neck. 

John's entire body lit up and died, collapsing to the floor. Deanna followed suit a moment later, deathly pale. 

Dean stopped what he was doing, stopped helping Mary, and looked at Percy wide eyes. 

It took him a moment to catch on, but when he did....Percy felt a wave of horror crest over him. 

He'd just killed Dean's father. 

Mary gave a strangled cry and leapt off the bed, twisting her leg badly as she landed. Her face twisted up in pain but she kept crawling towards John's body, pushing forwards. 

Percy stood stock-still, not really knowing what to do. 

Mary cradled John's head in her arms, tears streaming down her face. "John..." She whispered. 

Her hands were slowly getting stained red. 

Dean was still by the foot of the bed, staring at the scene before him. "It's not supposed to be like this." He mumbled, watching them. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way." 

Percy remembered what Sam had told him about his life, way back when they were together. Looking back on it, Sam probably lied about some of the more important things, not that Percy blamed him for it –but Sam always talked about his dad. 

Never really in a positive light, but Sam wasn't making up his memories.  

Percy remembered all the faces he made, various depictions of disgust, annoyance, humor. Sam's father had always been alive. 

But John Winchester was dead. 

Mary kept crying, lost in her own little world of grief and suffering. 

Slow applause sounded through the room, echoing strangely with Mary's sobbing. 

Samuel stepped out of the corner, wearing an out-of-place grin, eyes a nauseating shade of yellow. 

Behind Percy, Dean cursed, and he had to agree with the sentiment. Could they not catch a break? 

"Mary, Mary, Mary." He sing-songed. "Looks like somebody has a few issues in her love-life." 

Mary looked up, face contorting into a mask of rage. "This is your fault, isn't it." She practically growled. 

Yellow-Eyes shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not." He grinned. "Oh, who are we kidding. Of course it was me. You'd be surprised how easy it is to get other demons to do your dirty work." He looked down at John's corpse and sneered. 

Mary reached for John's dropped knife. "I swear to God, I'll kill you." 

"Oh, let's not get nasty." Yellow-Eyes sat down next to Mary, forcing her to lean back, twisting her injured leg further. 

"Now look, we both said, or did-" He gave an obliging nod. "-Some things we regret. Let's....kiss and make up." 

Percy cringed at the thought, especially since the demon was wearing her father. 

"Tell ya what, I'll have lover-boy here brought back. Breathing." 

Mary looked back at John, and then to Deanna, both lying still. 

"My...my mother, too?" Mary asked. 

The demon grinned predatorily. "Nope, sorry doll. That's not on the table. But hey, think about it. You could be done with hunting forever! White picket fence, station wagon, two-point-five kids, everything. No more monsters, promise." 

Mary looked scarily tempted. 

"Mary...." Dean said. 

Percy was so close to warning her off, beheading the goddamn demon now and leaving Mary surrounded with the corpses of her family around her. 

It sounded horrible, but....the demon would be dead. Annabeth would be safe, and whatever pile of shit that Azazel was cooking up would be completely stopped in its tracks. 

He couldn't do it. 

"What's the cost, huh?" Mary demanded. "Just my soul?" 

"Oh, no, you can keep your soul." Yellow-Eyes waved her off. "I just need permission." 

"For what?" Mary demanded. 

"I need to swing by your house in ten years. That's all." 

"For what?" She screeched. 

"Relax." The demon said. "'S long as I'm not interrupted, nobody gets hurt. I promise." He paused, letting it sink in. "Or you can spend the rest of your life desperate and alone." 

Mary sagged down, looking entirely defeated. 

Percy knew what she was going to say before her mouth moved. 

"Chase, Dean....I'm sorry." 

Dean didn’t say anything, his face stony.  

"I accept." 

Percy turned away. He didn’t want to look, to see everything spiraling into a wreck. 

Because, when it came down to it, they couldn't stop it. They couldn't stop the demon deal, they couldn't stop Azazel, they just....didn't do anything. 

John coughed twice, and when Percy turned around, the demon was gone. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no fucken words


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys get to bond!  
> And  
> Angry!Everybody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAHHH IT'S BEEN A WHOLE YEAR I FEEL PROUD OF MYSELF. Granted, we're only at chapter....thirteen...but hush! We've made it this far, we'll go father yet!  
> This is my baby and I won't delete this  
> Also it's over six thousand words (and by that I mean it's 6001) so y'all better be PROUD of me!
> 
> EDIT: It's Tuesday mah dudes!
> 
> Okay, so, about the name change..... Some unsavoury people got wind of my account and honestly I was just not prepared for that so  
> yeah  
> but it's still the same me! My ff.net has changed to the same thing, so don't worry. Y'know how to find me.

Dean shot up with a start, eyes opening like he'd been sleeping the whole time.

Chase—Percy was zonked out on the bed next to him. His mouth was moving in his sleep, and occasionally he'd say a word loud enough for Dean to hear.

"Mary still died, didn't she?" Dean muttered, mostly to himself. "My mother burned." He buried his head in his hands, feeling thoroughly useless, berating himself for his failure.

"Don't be too hard on yourself." A voice said. "You couldn't have stopped it."

Dean looked up slowly, and saw Castiel standing at the foot of his bed, looking as grave as ever.

Wait....he  _couldn't_  have stopped it? What the hell had the angel been telling him to do, then?

"What?" He asked, incredulous and a note too high.

"Destiny can't be changed, Dean." Castiel said. "All roads lead to the same destination."

"Then why'd you send me back?" Dean demanded. 

"Not a clue. Wanna explore the maze?" Percy muttered, drooling into his pillow. 

Dean started, not expecting to hear Percy of all people. But then he let out a snore, and Dean rolled his eyes. He didn't think Percy was even aware, lost in whatever dream world he was in, apparently in a labyrinth of sorts.

The angel side-eyed Percy, almost dismissively. "For the truth." He said. "But....he's changed things, somehow."

"Percy?" Dean asked. "He....he caused Mary to make the deal, didn't he? When he killed John. It's his fault!" He could feel the edges of hysteria creeping up on him. 

But Castiel shook his head, and Dean's blood ran cold. "It would have happened anyways, half-blood or no. He just changed the situation."

_Half-blood._

God, it seemed that an  _onion_  had less layers than this guy. It kept making him harder and harder to trust, never mind the fact that all he'd tried to do so far was help.

"This is....this is ridiculous, you know that?"

"She was one of the Hunters of Artemis." Percy said. Dean tried to ignore him.

Castiel, however, looked interested by what Percy had just muttered, muttering it again like he was specifically remembering that statement so he could look into it later. Maybe he was. Angels were fucking weird.

"Wait, where's Sam?" Dean asked.

"I love you, Sam." Percy said. He was partially muffled, what with his face being more than half smothered in pillow, but Dean still heard it well enough.

And wow, that was really something he didn't want to approach with a twenty-foot stick. Um.

"Dean." Castiel said, catching the hunter's attention. "Your brother is headed down a dangerous road, and we're not sure where it leads. So stop it. Or we will."

"Well, that's some bullshit." Percy said, sounding slightly clearer than before.

Dean didn't even look at him, still convinced that he was sleep-talking, and was startled when he heard the blankets rustling.

By the time he looked back to where Castiel had been, the angel was gone, and in his place, an innocent little note reading  _425 Waterman_ sat on the crusty carpet.

Percy picked it up, and handed it to Dean for inspection.

"I'm sorry, Dean." He said, sounding sincere. 

"For what?" Dean asked, almost sarcastically. "The angel said she would have died anyways. Nothing we could've done."

Percy shook his head. "We didn't know enough. I just....I should have kept a better eye on John."

"Don't bother with that." Dean grumbled. "There's no knowing how long he was possessed."

Eventually Percy sighed. "We need to find Sam."

.:~*~:.

The drive to 425 Waterman was painfully short.  Neither Percy nor Dean looked at each other, and Dean could have practically cut the tension in the air with a knife. 

Percy practically dove out of the car the moment they rolled up to the building, which was an abandoned, dirty building.

The cliché was practically oozing down the sidewalk.

Percy made for the door, but something caught at Dean's "Hunter Senses," and he stopped the other, warily.

Percy rolled his eyes. "Dean, Sam's  _here._ "

Dean looked at him sharply. "First of all,  _Chase_ ," and Percy's face dropped at the reminder. "You really can't go barging in there looking like....that."

Percy muttered something sarcastic, but his features blurred nonetheless. 

"And secondly," Dean continued. "Something's going on."

"Oh." Percy said. "Like,  _going on_?" He tried for an eyebrow waggle, but it looked more like a caterpillar had a seizure on his face. But Dean saw the way his smile cracked at the thought, and whatever he was going to say next dried up in his throat.

So, instead of saying anything, he turned and walked to the side of the building, trying to keep in the shadows and not tip off anyone that he was there.

He spotted a window, and peeking in, hoping he wouldn't be too visible. He felt Pery creep up next to him, but didn't divert his attention from the window, watching the scene unfold.

Sam was inside, the angel hadn't been lying. But Dean found it hard to be relieved by this when Sam was essentially Spanish-Inquisitioning some dude tied up in a chair.

A brown haired woman was standing next to him, looking far too smug.

Percy wrinkled his nose. "One of them's a demon. Maybe both."

"What are you, a monster radar?" Dean asked, not really knowing what else to say.

"No." Percy groused. "But angels feel like holy water, and demons are stink like befoulment. It's annoying."

"Befoulment?" Dean asked. "When were you born, the 1690s?"

Percy just peered back into the window, eyes wide.

Dean looked around wildly for a moment, still not seeing everything perfectly, until he noticed. 

Sam was force-exorcizing the demon out, black smoke coalescing on the floor and burning from the inside out.

"Damn." Percy whispered. "Is that what you two do for shits now?"

"No." Dean said, turning away from the window. "Definitely not."

Percy caught up with him easily,  following Dean to the crumbly-looking door. "So what, you're gonna yell at him? 'Bad Sammy, we don't play with demons!'" He mocked.

Dean busted open the door as the brown-haired chick was picking up the unconscious dude.

"What the hell, Sam?"

.:~*~:.

Chase stood behind Dean, looking a strange combination of indifferent and uncomfortable. He kept his eyes fixed on Ruby, though, not ever actually looking at Sam.

_This again._

Dean advanced on him, not exactly giving Sam much room to talk his way out of the situation.

"Dean, wait-"

Dean stopped moving and raised an eyebrow. "You gonna tell me to hear you out? What the hell is this, Sam?"

 Chase eyed Ruby suspiciously, not looking at the guy he was taking care of. It was almost like he knew....but that would have been impossible, right? Chase would have no frame of reference for her.

"Ruby's helping me-" Sam started.

Dean cut him off with something that sounded like a screech. " _Ruby_? Sam, what in the actual hell?"

Sam watched as Ruby edged her way towards the door, man slung over her shoulders. Chase stopped her quickly.

"Don't leave." He warned.

"Sure. I've got no problem letting this man die." She made to move as if she was about to drop him.

Chase looked helplessly at Dean, who grit his teeth. "Fine, whatever."

"You know what?" Chase offered, as Ruby slipped out the door. He made several aborted gestures. "I'm gonna....I'm gonna follow her there and make sure she doesn't get him possessed again. Catch up with you later."

Dean looked less than thrilled with Chase making his exit, not as much as he would have been yesterday.

Sam wondered what had happened overnight to cause that.

Dean didn't say anything for several moments, instead staring at Sam like there was a bug on his face.

"Dude, what?" Sam asked, starting to feel uncomfortable.

Dean sighed. "Why are you doing this?" He rubbed at his face.

"To save lives." Sam tried to explain. "I can kill the demons, get rid of them permanently, but I can leave their hosts alive!"

"Sam, they're demons." Dean said, like that explained everything.

It really didn't. "So?"

"They're not exactly known for being gentle, Sam! You leave the host alive, great! They'll be traumatized and braindead, or permanently crippled. You can't just bounce back from that!"

Sam sighed. He really was helping, he was sure of that. He just wanted to make Dean see it too. For once, he wanted his brother to have faith in him.

"Would death really be better for them?" Sam asked.

He tried not to think about the Witnesses.

"You know what? Fine." Dean said. For a split second, Sam thought he was actually conceding, but he knew his brother better than that. "But Ruby, she's a demon. Trusting her's gonna get you stabbed in the back." Dean turned around and walked back out of the room, leaving Sam standing alone.

He wasn't supposed to be used to that.

Sam stood still for a few minutes, until he heard the engine of the Impala start up again. Was Dean seriously leaving him behind?

He rushed outside, only to see the taillights of the car as it moved off, and Chase leaning against a wall watching it go.

"I thought you...were with Ruby?" He questioned.

Chase turned his head slowly to look at Sam. "She disappeared two blocks down. I had to call 911 for the guy. Whoever he is, though, he's taken care of."

If Sam were being honest with himself, he would have admitted that he really hadn't expected too much else from the demon. Sam knew she wasn't entirely trustworthy.

Just like he knew why Dean was upset, but he just wanted to help people.

Chase was staring back out at the road again, looking completely aloof.

"I just....It's helping! Less people are dying..." Sam didn't know why he suddenly felt the need to explain himself.

Chase closed his eyes. "I know."

Sam floundered. "I just....I hate that my brother barely trusts me anymore."

"To be fair, you're hanging out with a demon." Chase said, far too reasonably.

Sam wasn't sure how Chase wanted him to answer that. 

Sighing, Chase peeled himself on the wall. "You coming, Sam?" He asked, like he atually wanted Sam with him.

When Sam stood still, staring slightly dumb, Chase rolled his eyes. "It's gonna get cold soon, which is basically my least favorite temperature. Besides, I don't think your brother's coming back for us any time soon."

Chase started walking, slow enough that Sam had no problem keeping up with him.

"It's the Apocalypse." Sam opened with, trying to think of a way to explain that he didn't want to be doing that, that he wouldn't have anytime else. He didn't know why, but he needed someone to understand him, to hear him out. Moreso now that his brother seemed keen on leaving him behind.

Chase seemed to understand what he was getting at. "I know."

"Do you?" Sam asked.

"I was part of a war too, Sam." Chase wouldn't look at him.

Sam didn't say anything. The way Chase talked, the tone of his voice –it sounded like he'd been in something big. But he'd have heard of it, right? Hunters would have noticed.

"When?" Sam asked. "Why?"

"Why do you think wars start, Sammy? Somebody wanted something better, and convinced enough people to agree." Chase spun around so he was walking backwards, facing Sam, apparently not worried that he might run into something. "And anyways, it was a long time ago. None of it matters anymore."

That sounded depressing to Sam. "You really think-"

Chase was quick to cut him off. "Sam, I  _know_. They're all either dead or moved on. Please, just forget about it." Despite his denial, though, he remained backwards, looking Sam square in the eye.

Sam was the first to look away. He didn't say anything, either, wondering instead about what war Chase could have been talking about, running over every major event he could think of.

Eventually Chase turned around. His walk turned into more of a trudge. Everything about his posture screamed 'downcast,' and Sam wanted to ask him what was wrong, and comfort him.

"I have to look after you, Sam." Chase said at last. "You and your brother."

Sam hadn't been expecting him to speak, and nearly tripped over a stick in the sidewalk.

"And that means I can't do what I need to do until your Apocalypse is over. All I can do is pray to the gods that our lines will cross and you'll be able to help me." Chase sounded so bitter.  _"Winchesters."_

Sam felt hurt at the amount of malice in his voice. "Why wouldn't we help you? Hell, why do you need to watch us anyways? Why can't you just go off on your own way and leave us to ourselves?"

"Don't you know how much I want to?" Chase sounded darker now, so much different than the one who had essentially stumbled into Bobby's house. "I want to just leave you both behind, you and your demon issues and your fucking deals and every other mess you've made since! But  _I'm stuck here!_ " Chase shouted. "I'm  _stuck here_  because of some prophecy made by one of my best friends, and she's the fucking _Oracle_  so there go my chances of ignoring that!"

" _But_ _sulphur_ _steals_." Sam remembered. “A prophecy, right?” Chase turned dark eyes on him, like he hadn't expected him to remember that. 

Things started to fall into place for Sam. The reason Chase was so ready to go tearing off, the reason he was interacting with the Winchesters in the first place.

"The demons took something, didn't they? Something important?"

"They took Annabeth. And I can't get her until your Apocalypse is 'crisis-averted' or whatever." Chase started walking faster, and Sam could see the motel lights not too far off. Suddenly, their conversation was on a timer.

Something about the name Annabeth stuck with him, though. Sam wracked his brain, trying to figure out why it was so familiar.

Hadn't Percy talked about her before?

If they had both known her....and Chase was willing to do so much for her...Chase had to have known Percy, right? There was no other way around it.

"I want to help you." Sam decided. "I can get rid of the demons."

Chase gave him a side-eye that was practically dripping in derision. "Yeah, through demon powers. Use your logic, Sammy."

"That's the second time you've called me that." Sam pointed out. It hadn't exactly been annoying him, per say, not like when his brother did that. He just didn't understand why Chase of all people would call him Sammy. It implied a level of familiarity, and Sam had only known him for what, three days?

"It was a mistake, Sam." Chase said with an air of finality.

"Seriously, Chase?" Sam was suddenly, irrationally angry at the other man. "Why can't you own up to anything?"

"Fuck you, Sam. I want nothing to do with you. You don't need to know anything."

Well that was sudden. Where was all of the hostility coming from?

"You're  _supervising_  us, Chase, it'd be nice to know something about you!" Sam said, gesturing wildly even though Chase, walking ahead of him, couldn't see it.

"You wanna know something? Fine!" Chase shouted, spinning around so he was face-to-face with Sam, way too close. "I have watched too many people die  _next to me_  because of some stupid prophesy that wasn't even about me, in the end! So many damn campers, just because someone wanted a  _family_! And on top of that, there was another war after that! My fucking nosebleed set off another  _giant_  attack, and we lost so many goddamn more after that, so  _goddamn many_. And we're about to lose fucking more because I can't help anyone!" Chase wound himself up.

Sam tried to cut in, but apparently Chase wasn’t finished, not by a long shot.

“If there’s anything I’m good at, it’s war. And it really sucks, it does. But seeing someone throw  _everything_ away for a flimsy excuse like that? Because you’re ‘helping out’? Honestly, it’s a big fucking insult. You’re just tossing out, what, decades of hunter training? Plus another with  _the same skills as you,_ if not more ‘cuz he didn’t go swanning off to college for years! And me! Sam, you have me! Stop fucking acting like you’re the only one who can solve this fucking apocalypse! And leave that gods-damned demon alone!

And suddenly they were at the motel. Sam had only just noticed, but apparently Chase had been more aware than he was, because the moment he finished yelling, he stormed off into the room, slamming the door behind him.

Sam looked around for the Impala, but it was nowhere to be seen. Dean was still out.

“Damn it.” Sam muttered. He looked helplessly at the door for a moment, than turned around and walked the complete opposite direction.

He didn't have any real destination, okay with just wandering. While he walked, though, he kept his mind on Chase.

How had he known about college? It would have made sense had Percy talked to Chase about him…But Percy had never mentioned a Chase. Percy, who was the most open person he’d known. Who’d told him everything, even the bits about his stepfather.

Chase seemed to know way too much, and it made Sam uncomfortable.

And another thing, his relationship with Dean… Something had definitely changed between him and Dean overnight….they seemed less  _against_  each other. And maybe it was because of how they’d found Sam out, maybe it was that Dean had something other to fight against, something more important, but still.

And the way Chase seemed insistent upon watching after them….well, if felt patronizing, for one.

And that Chase couldn’t be bothered to come up with an actual excuse, something worth more than just “The Oracle told me, and well,  _duh,_ I’m obviously powerless to fight against fate’s designs.” It just…felt cheap. 

Sam saw how much he wanted to leave, and while it hurt, while he didn’t understand what he and his brother had done to warrant such behavior, he could kind of….almost understand it. He knew the feeling of being useless, knew how much strain it caused and just….he felt bad.

He was going to help Chase, he decided, however he could. 

The only problem with that, was, of course, was that Chase wasn’t going to let him close.

.:~*~:.

Percy couldn’t believe it, but there he was, sulking in the motel room like a three-year-old.

He’d been in there a long time, almost hoping Sam would walk in behind him and he could start another fight. He wanted to. 

It wasn’t fair of him, though. To just tear into someone, anyone, out of the blue like that. No matter how much he didn’t like their actions, it wasn’t fair of him to do that.

It wasn’t like him, either. What had happened to his “loyalty unto death?” He wasn’t the kind of person to take down others, never had been.

The thought made him miserable, which in turn made him angry again. Maybe it was a leftover effect from the demon?

Suddenly, Percy regretted everything he’d said to Sam just then. Maybe ever. He kept hoping that at any second, Sam would come through the door. He could apologize, and reveal himself, and….

Percy shook his head. His thoughts were taking a dangerous track, loopy and kind of all over the place.

What was wrong with him?

Percy sat down on the bed he’d woken up in, barely a few hours earlier. Was it really still the early morning? It had been dark out, easy to forget that it was the middle of the night. And Sam was still out? Now Percy felt like a piece of shit on his rollercoaster of emotions.

“What the hell was that demon up to, anyways?” He wondered aloud. “And why the hell does she need Sam?”

The door, at last, opened and closed, and it took most of Percy’s will to not look up at whoever it was. Instead, he turned away from the door and took his pen out of his pocket, looking at all the bite marks on the cap. Okay, so maybe he had a habit.

“Chase.” A voice said.

Sam, then.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Percy tossed out quickly. “I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. I guess I was still messed up from being close to the demon. They always….mess with me.”

“No, I…I get you.” Sam said. Percy still wasn’t looking at him, but he heard the other bed creak, so he assumed Sam was sitting down as well. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Percy hung his head. This was exactly like Sam. It was refreshing, in a sense, to see that some things never changed. “I-”

Sam started speaking at the same time, though, so Percy just shut up and listened. “And you were right, you know. About my…pushing everybody away. And really….I don’t mean to do that. But I just….I hate to admit it, but I don’t really know how to deal with an Apocalypse.”

“Surprise, surprise.” Percy commented. “Most people don’t, you know.”

Percy wished he was looking at Sam right then, so he was able to see the face he made. Nevertheless, he could imagine it well enough. A wry sort of reluctant smile. Small.

“You do, don’t you?”

Percy sighed. “I’m a special case.”

“Clearly.” There was a tentative sort of sarcasm there, as if Sam wasn’t quite sure he was allowed to joke with Percy. Chase, to him.

Percy sat silent for several moments, stretching out for far longer than it seemed, before at last he spoke up. “Sam…..what were you doing with the demon, anyways?”

Sam huffed out air through his nose. “She was helping me control my…gifts.” He sounded undeniably bitter.

“Gifts?” Percy questioned.

“Well, Dean saw, I don’t know if you did, but…..I was able to exorcize a demon, and kill it. Permanently. Without hurting the host.” Sam explained.

“Oh.” Percy said. Honestly, it sounded like something Hecate’s kids could do. Maybe Nico, too.

Sam was starting to sound like he was having a fit over there, all spasmodic, so before he could work himself up with panic anymore, Percy said, “I have gifts too.”

It wasn’t….exactly how he’d put it, with the context making them sound demon-given, but it seemed to go a long way towards making  Sam feel better.

Then the curiosity kicked in, and Sam was asking, “Like what?”

Percy laughed quietly to himself. Some things would never change. “It’s more water-based. Like, heavily so. But I can heal from water, control it, and in extreme cases -I’m talking Mt. St. Helens here -summon it. But that is a party I really don’t wanna go back to.”

He finally turned around, wanting to see Sam’s face.

Sam was sitting on the bed, looking rather slack-jawed. “ _You_ did Mt. St. Helens? It went off way too early! I remember that, Dad was all over it for ages trying to figure out what’d happened!”

“Yeah….” Percy said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, that was definitely not fun, though.”

“But you….you can’t have been older than seventeen when it happened!”

“Was fifteen, actually.” Percy said. “Took me several weeks to completely recover. I think.”

Sam winced in sympathy and Percy wanted to laugh at him. 

"It's okay." Percy assured him. "I'm clearly fine now, aren't I?"

Sam nodded thoughtfully, looking him over in a way that made him feel uncomfortable.

Percy shifted awakwardly.

"Hey, can I see your...pen?" Sam asked.

Percy stared at him. He'd forgotten he'd had it, so used to having it in his hands that he hadn't even noticed anymore.

"No, not like that!" Sam rushed to explain, misinterpreting Percy's reaction. "I just thought that your sword was interesting!"

Percy busted out laughing. Sam had thought he'd been innuendo-ed? "Sure, Sam." He managed. 'You can touch my pen."

Sam flushed red, clearly embarrassed, but nevertheless Percy tossed it at him.

He fumbled with it a little bit, and then held it pinched between two fingers, making a face at the bite marks on the end.

"Sorry." Percy shrugged. "Trust me in that I didn't know it could write until recently. It'd be a lot worse if I'd known earlier."

"Huh." Sam commented. He picked at the cap hesitantly. "So...just take this off? Won't it stab my face?"

"You'd think, yeah." Percy nodded. "But it seems to have a way of missing faces."

Nevertheless Sam uncapped it warily, almost reverently, looking like he'd rather someone else was doing it for him.

The sword sprung out, shiny and new-looking as ever, as though years of use and hundreds of disuse hadn't affected it in the slightest.

"Whoa." Sam breathed out.

Percy grinned, cheesy and proud. "Oh, yeah. It's called Riptide, by the way."

Sam glanced at him, wide-eyed, then went back to inspecting the sword. "Have you even used this? It's in really great shape."

Percy shrugged. "That's the power of magical, thousands-of-years-old swords for you. Pretty convenient, isn't it?"

Sam gaped. "Damn, Chase, where the hell did you get this? Most people don't just  _have_ these."

"And that's a story for another time." Percy said, smiling.

It took him a moment to notice the problem. He wasn't supposed to be enjoying himself. He wasn't supposed to be sitting pretty with Sam while the end of the world went on. He was supposed to be taking care of things, not having a good time.

Damn it, he wasn't supposed to still want to be near Sam. Not anymore.

Percy shook his head, annoyed with himself.

He was going to enjoy himself for at least one night, no matter what. Then he could get out of everyone's hair. 

….Eventually.

Sam seemed to catch on to his sudden sinking emotions. "Chase? You good? I can give your sword back, if you want..."

Percy waved him off. "Nah, you have your fun." A thought struck him. "Actually, you any good with swords? You toss me something, I'll take you on. Winner takes Riptide." Percy felt a little bad for betting with his best sword, but he was sure in his abilities. Sam might have had a broader education, but Percy...he'd been trained by the best swordsman in three hundred years. 

And then (on a rather large technicality) beat him.

He wouldn't lose to Sam.

Sam shook his head. "We don't exactly have any swords. We might've, if they could turn into pens like yours, but as it is they're too bulky."

"Fine." Percy conceded. "But the second you get your hands on one....you versus me."

Sam smiled, honest and bright. "Deal." He started patting about on the bedsheets for something, squinting and crinkling his nose.

Percy pulled the cap out of his pocket. "Looking for this?"

Sam literally did a double-take, eyes widening in surprise when he saw Percy holding it up with a smug grin on his face, before reaching for it.

Percy tossed it at him and accidentally hit him in the eye. He froze, sure he'd overstepped something, when Sam grinned and tossed the whole pen back (not pointy, thank the gods), hitting Percy squarely in the forehead.

Percy sneezed. "Damn it, Sam, you can't just  _do_  that to a person!" He pretended to complain, before rifling through his pockets for something to toss back.

The best he could come up with was a paperclip.

Sam looked at it curiously. "Does that turn into a bow, or something?"

Percy gave him a deadpan look. "No. I use it as ammo against the Party Ponies."

"What're those?" Sam asked.

"They're, um...." Percy launched himself into an extremely long-winded explanation about the crazy centaurs, and how exactly they ran into each other, which in turn led to Percy explaining the Princess Andromeda (albeit heavily censored) and just the whole Sea of Monsters debacle.

It was strange, Percy mused, to be having this conversation with Sam at long last, something he'd imagined hundreds of times. Finally coming clean.

It felt different than he'd expected, Percy mused. Maybe because he wasn't Percy, but Chase. 

Sam, for his part, looked totally enthralled by Percy's stories, eagerly listening. He looked almost like a child honestly, absorbing everything that Percy said as if it were gospel truth. 

Percy paused. "You know what, Sam? I'll just start from the beginning. It'll make more sense that way." He didn't think it was a good idea, not even remotely, but honestly, he just wanted to get it out there. He wanted to actually talk to someone about everything. He couldn't talk to his mom, or Paul, or any of his numerous friends. They'd worry about him. He didn't want that.

He didn't want anyone to worry about him anymore. He was sick of it. Sam, though? Sam would think it was cool. Sam would think it was impressive. Sam would even understand, because Sam knew monsters better than any of the sheltered camp kids with their once-a-year quests.

And Sam wouldn't worry because Sam....wouldn't care. Really, it was all wins.

Percy tried to believe that, anyways.

Sam nodded. "Still, even hearing all that....Chase, that's amazing. And you were so much younger!"

Percy unconsciously flinched at Sam using the name Chase so happily, the way he'd accepted it. He prayed to the gods that Sam didn't notice.

Percy took a deep breath. "Listen, I didn't want to be a half-blood..."

The hours started to fly by after that, the sun rising and getting high in the sky while Percy went over everything that had happened since he was twelve, all the way up to defeating Gaia. 

It was immensely relieving, he decided, to be able to talk about all that shit, all those heavy weights that had kept him down over the years, those horrifying bits that had given him nightmares to that day (though the current ones were new, filled with demons and Sam and fire). He was glad that he was able to talk about it, if not freely then  _at all_ , at long last spitting out the truth to the man he loved.

And that was it, wasn't it? He still loved Sam. He wasn't supposed to, he was supposed to be miles upon miles away from the both of them, Sam and Dean and hunting monsters.

Hunting demons.

And it was his fault, his fault he'd let that  _demon_ , Azazel, talk him into dying and running away and hiding and messing every perfect thing up. What he wouldn't give to take it all back, to undo it all and go back to that stupid domestic bliss.

He wanted nothing more than to apologize endlessly to Sam, to reveal everything and make it all better, and just go back to the way things were, back to the arguments about his health and his obsession with blue and making out and cheesy movies that were as cliché as the rest of them.

And sometimes, now, on days kind of like this, Percy just felt like calling it quits, giving up completely, giving up on Annabeth and letting somebody else save her, and he could just curl into a ball and hide from the rest of the world.

But no. He opened up, he actually talked for once. He told Sam absolutely everything, and was determined not to regret it.

He told Sam about the River Styx, how harrowing it was, how he'd nearly been killed but Annabeth had taken the poisoned dagger for him, how he'd taken on a Titan and  _won,_ how he'd jumped into Tartarus to save her.

Sam made all the right faces at the right moments. He looked like he actually cared, which was ridiculous, considering that Chase was an asshole stranger that should have meant nothing to him.

At some point, and Percy really didn't know when, he'd crawled onto the other bed and was right up next to Sam, talking about all the things he'd done and occasionally bumping him with his elbows. 

Sam didn't seem to mind.

"You should be considering yourself lucky that you never met Coach Hedge. Honestly. He hangs around Jason and Piper more, but I've run into him enough that I never want to again."

Sam laughed. "Still, I could never imagine all the things you've done. You have a pet hellhound!"

Chase shook his head. "It's a matter of worlds, Sam. My monsters were softer than yours, that's all." 

Sam looked doubtful. "I...don't think so, Chase. You had to do all that as a teenager. Hell, my dad kept me out of the loop for years, and even after that, I was babied on hunts. I know you don't like it, but we may well need you after all." He squinted at Percy's face, suddenly, like it'd been covered in a rainbow mess courtesy of the Stolls.

Percy looked away from Sam, partially from the weird look, but also out of embarrassment. He couldn't let it happen, not again. Hell, he'd barely stand for them being friends. 

He. Was. Going. To. Leave.

Somehow, that was getting harder and harder to remind himself of.

Damnit.

Dean slammed open the door, surprising them both. Percy'd just kind of....forgotten he was out.

Oh. While he'd been sitting there having a good time with Sam, he'd completely forgotten that Dean would still be simmering in his anger of Sam's betrayal.

Percy jumped off of Sam's bed, ready and willing to explain himself, but Dean just stormed past him, starting to shove everything in a bag and ignoring the two of them.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked, approaching him with less caution than Percy had.

Dean didn't say anything, instead continuing to shove clothes into his bag, with more ferocity than before.

"Are you leaving?" Sam asked.

"You don't need me anymore." Dean said. "You and Ruby can go hunt demons. Chase, you can cheerlead for them."

"Wha-?" Percy floundered. "Seriously? What the hell happened to stubborn-ass Winchesters?"

Dean pointed at Sam, standing up straight, abandoning his clothes alltogether.  _"That_." He bit out. "That happened."

"Dean, just chill out for a second!" Percy argued.  _"What_  is your  _deal?"_

Dean gave him the most angry, deadpan look. "Four months in hell. While Sammy over there got down with the demons."

Sam looked hurt by the accusation, and Percy didn't know which side to defend. He didn't know how to diffuse the situation.

"I'm trying to save people! The hosts stay alive! Why can't you see that?" Sam pleaded.

Dean's face just shut down. "Oh yeah? That how she tricked you into using your powers? Huh, Sam?"

"Look, we don't have many other options here!" Sam said.

Percy stepped in. "I....I think Sam's right. But we can stop this from getting out of hand!"

Dean looked at him. "Oh, get over yourself, Chase. This...this isn't natural. It's already out of hand."

"So what, you're gonna let people die?" Sam argued.

"If it means keeping you on the right track, then yes, Sam!"  

Sam took a step back, not expecting the honesty.

"Say we get rid of Ruby. What then?" He asked softly. To Percy, it didn't sound like he was arguing anymore. Just trying to figure out what next.

Dean sighed. "I don't know, Sam. We'll get there eventually. But for now, let's just focus on getting rid of the demon."

Sam looked relieved that his brother wasn't shouting at him anymore.

"Wait..." Percy said. "What does she do? Other than play cheerleader?"

Sam looked like he'd been hoping Chase wouldn't ask.

Dean stared at Sam intensely, as if he could just summon the answers straight out of his skull and display them in the air.

Sam bit his lip, staring at the ground. When he finally spoke, it looked like it physically hurt him to say. 

"She's my...supplier."


End file.
